


I Can’t Promise That Vampires Will Never Hurt You

by DeHaruspex



Series: Vampireverse [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Accidents, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Anxiety, Anxious Akaashi Keiji, Background Relationships, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Loss, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, College, Complicated Relationships, Death Threats, Depression, Drowning, Drunkenness, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, Humanity, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Minor Violence, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Ouch, Past Violence, Rare Pairings, References to Depression, Romance, Sad, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, Threats of Violence, Trauma, Twilight AU, Twilight References, Vampires, Violence, Vomiting, implied suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 09:41:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 140,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25967542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeHaruspex/pseuds/DeHaruspex
Summary: I could totally handle a vampire, he thought, mindlessly to himself, lips pulling into a faint smirk as he watched the characters on the screen run off and race through the trees at inhuman speeds. Bella played it cool and Kuroo, confidently, knew that he would too. Probably. Most likely. Not that it would matter at all— vampires aren’t real.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou, Daishou Suguru & Tsukishima Kei, Daishou Suguru/Kuroo Tetsurou, Hinata Shouyou & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kuroo Tetsurou & Sugawara Koushi, Kuroo Tetsurou & Terushima Yuuji, Kuroo Tetsurou & Tsukishima Kei, Oikawa Tooru/Sugawara Koushi, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Series: Vampireverse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2167380
Comments: 43
Kudos: 147





	1. First Sight

“Say it. Say it out loud.”

The room held its breath, the slow murmur of the pipes running along the ceiling providing an ominous hum as all the women in the room leaned forward in their seats. The boys tried to pretend that their interest was captured elsewhere, either peering out the window or finding something incredible fascinating pinned to the bulletin board near the door— but Kuroo knew better. He knew the boys were peeking at the screen through their arms, with their heads tucked neatly into the fold of their elbow, with just enough space to feign a watch of the screen.

“Vampire.”

The cold silence of the room tensed under the suspense of the movie playing in the background. There was not a single sound, not an intake of breath, not a creak of a seat. Every eye was drawn to the screen as the lion circled the lamb, teasing her, taunting her. He was trying to prove his worth, whether that be in fear or admittance of love, Kuroo did not know. He couldn’t help but admit he, too, was deeply invested in the film.

How would Bella react to Edward’s secret? The woman on the screen’s expression was cool and collected— thoughtful, even— and the tall, lanky boy leaned comfortably back in his seat. His brows furrowed and his head tilted, curiously, wondering if he would react the same way. He wondered if the lion to his lamb would stalk around him as if he were nothing but the lion’s next snack, scouring his tall form for a hint at his reaction. Was it fear he was expressing? Peace? Acceptance? And he wondered, if there would be a reaction at all.

_I could totally handle a vampire_ , he thought, mindlessly to himself, lips pulling into a faint smirk as he watched the characters on the screen run off and race through the trees at inhuman speeds. Bella played it cool and Kuroo, confidently, knew that he would too. Probably. Most likely. Not that it would matter at all— vampires aren’t real.

A series of scenes played behind his eyes of how could it would be to actually know a vampire, if they existed in the same way they did in all those movies and books. Not the ones like Edward and Bella. Kuroo stifled a chuckle which bubbled at the base of his throat as he pictured clans of tall, remarkably stunning people, glittering and shimmering in the sunlight as if they were made of precious crystal. Sparkling would be weird, but all the other features? That would be pretty cool. Super speed, super strength— imagine if he had stuck with volleyball in high school _and_ he was a vampire? There was no defeating him. Maybe he would’ve enjoyed the sport more. Maybe he would’ve played it into college.

The movie eventually came to an end and the lights of the classroom illuminated the eager faces of the students of the university. A quiet chatter filled his ears as he grabbed his book bag and headed for the exit. The campus was a small one, not too big and not too small, but small enough that it was easy to tell when the new students arrived. As he marched across the campus green, he eyed the admissions office, where a large gathering of students flocked. It was probably the Jans— the students who transferred in at the second semester. Kuroo never understood why somebody would want to start a school year halfway through it. It seemed awkward showing up when all the friend groups were already established and everybody knew who their people were. Where all the cool apartments were, all the wild places downtown had been snuffed out. It was much harder to navigate the university showing up this late without guidance, and nobody really cared to reach out to the Jans. It was too much explaining everything. Nobody had the time. Kuroo definitely did not have the time.

He snickered to himself as he strolled past the admissions office, the gaggle of new students quizzically staring at maps of the campus, struggling to hold onto the stack of booklets describing all the clubs and opportunity for work study, as well as the gifted water bottle with the university’s mascot on it. It was overwhelming to even look at. A hot mess, to say the least. And he knew there were eyes pulled to him as he strutted back towards his dorm. He was self-assured and confident, each step of his long strides proving more and more to the Jans that they will never be as untouchable as him.

***

“I hate Jan season.” Bokuto spat, rolling his eyes dramatically as he turned away from the awkward crowd that entered the bar.

Kuroo snorted and waved his hand in their direction, turning his eyes from the fresh-faced audience, his drink sloshing in his cup and onto his black fitted shirt. He raised his eyebrow in Bokuto’s direction, half grin on his lips. “Don’t even get me started, there’s too many of them for me to even care. I am surprised they found this place though.”

Akaashi stood beside Bokuto, small next to him despite being equal in height and physique. His dark eyes flashed quickly towards the group and back to his friends, his expression bored. He shrugged slightly, “There is a large sign in flashing lights right on the street pointing to the entrance. And promising beer.”

Bokuto let out a howl of a laugh and curled his arm around Akaashi’s shoulders, leaning his face close. “What’s your point? There’s like ten of those on this street alone!”

Akaashi sighed. “My point exactly.”

Kuroo dismissed his friends with a shrug, unconsciously stepping closer to them as the bar began to pack as the night carried on. The music roared in his ears, some dance mix that he heard on repeat being in a college town. The lights were low, different neon signs illuminating the faces of the crowd as they danced to music. It was like a scene from a movie, cutting to the different faces of the patrons of the bar. Tall and skinny women with their bright red lipstick smudged to their plastic cups filled with piss-flavored beer leaning in close to the tall guys with their facial hair unkept and their muscles pressing against their too-tight shirts. Guys in their Hawaiian shirts dancing in the center of the dance floor with sweat stains on their chests, girls in a circle laughing and eyeing the shadowed faces of their counterparts, wondering if they were actually as cute in the light as they were in the darkness.

It didn’t take long to forget about the Jans. It’s easy to forget who you are under the neon lights. It’s easy to forget which social groups you belonged to. And soon the Jans found themselves intermixed with the other students, dancing and singing together, downing plastic cup of beer one after the other as if they needed it to survive. It was a college bar. It was messy and it was loud. There were never any rules in a place like this and nobody ever cared who you were. So if you wanted to stand atop a pool table, grabbing your best friend’s hand, screaming lyrics to some radio pop song with an edgy remix, then—hell, that’s what you’ll do.

Kuroo clung to Bokuto’s arm as he wobbled unsteadily on the pool table, laughing hysterically as they danced. The sea of people was a blur around him, no distinguishable faces, just people. Faces. Joy.

Bokuto leaned down to grab at Akaashi’s arm to pull him up to the table, but Akaashi shot him a quick dark look and yanked his arm away. Bokuto cackled and waved his arm, “Come up!”.

Akaashi scowled and tried to take a step away, eyes widening when Bokuto grabbed him from under the arms and with a quick yank, pulled him atop of the pool table. Kuroo tossed his head back as he hooted and howled with his laughter, grabbing onto Akaashi as he stood there, unmoving, while both Bokuto and Kuroo danced next to him, singing into his ears. If you looked hard enough, you would see the pink beginning to touch the tops of his cheeks as he intentionally looked somewhere far away from Bokuto.

“Dance with us!” He called, receiving a side eye from Akaashi.

“No,” he said, barely audible over the music.

Bokuto didn’t seem to acknowledge the refusal and carried on dancing with a happy, lopsided grin, while Kuroo waved a hand in his direction, dismissive.

“Fine, whatever you say,” he said. “I’m going to get another drink. Want anything?”

He waited a beat for a response but Bokuto was too far gone as he pumped his arms in the air close enough to the beat of the song and Akaashi glowered somewhere else, foot tapping. Kuroo smiled knowingly and shrugged, hopping gracefully down to the floor, careful not to spill the last few bit of his drink atop a fair-haired woman and her dancing partner.

It was easy to navigate the dance floor as packed as it was. He stood a few inches taller than some of the tallest patrons making his way easily through the maze of people. He held his drink high above everyone’s head, courteous enough to not spill and ruin a night. He was definitely feeling the effects of his drinking. It was like a quiet hum in the back of his head, a warmth in his stomach. Everything seemed to merge together in a way that was both intentional and sloppy, but it was good. That’s how the night was going. It was good. And as he walked through the crowd, blinking away the blurriness of his vision, the corners of his mouth pulled into a smirk. It was good. That’s all it was.

He made it to the bar with ease, leaning casually against the wooden counter and raised his hand to grab the tender’s attention. He cooly pointed to his drink and raised a long slender finger to indicate his order. The tender nodded and speedily prepared another foamy cup of the golden liquid. Kuroo passed his fee across the table and offered a nod of thanks before peeling away to find a place to lurk, not wanting to jump atop his pool table just yet. Part of the fun of going out to places as busy as this was the people-watching. And he only had so much time before people-watching turned into ‘somehow-stumbling-past-people-to-find-a-bathroom-to-throw-up-in-and-the-people-don’t-look-like-people-they-kind-of-just-look-like-blobby-aliens’.

Kuroo found his spot tucked away against a brick wall that gave him free reign to watch as he pleased without being bumped every couple of seconds. He brought his drink to his lips and took a long swig of the foamy mess, grimacing at its flavor. He observed two women, one with bright red hair and the other a cropped black, were sharing a cigarette tucked far away in the depths of the bar. A man awkwardly holding the waste of a smaller woman, dancing shyly with one another. Two girls kissing and a frat boy smacking the arm of his friend to grab his attention. Bokuto’s dancing atop the pool table receiving an audience of his own, kicking his legs out in a flailing motion to earn a hearty cheer from his new fans. Akaashi wanting nothing more than to sink into the green felt of the table, attempting to step down, but being yanked back closer to Bokuto. Kuroo snorted at that. Unlucky, Akaashi. Try again later.

Kuroo’s eyes found a group of Jans huddled together dancing in a circle trying to make light of their first night on the town. He had recognized a few of them from earlier in the day, but nobody really looked the same under the dimmed lights of the bar, their hair and faces made up to present a certain way, and it was much too chilly outside to wear the cropped tank tops most of the women were sporting during the day time. It wasn’t an awkward circle, it was clear the alcohol made them ease into the experience without fear of how they looked to the rest of the community. They had each other for now and that’s all that mattered. Soon they would infiltrate the rest of the school and the already established groups of friends. Soon the Jans wouldn’t be the Jans and just like the rest of the students. But until then, Kuroo would stand and speculate about the bunch of newbies. Judging the Jans was part of the fun.

He took another low, slow sip of his drink, thoughtfully preparing to make his way back to his friends when he lifted his eyes briefly back towards the group of Jans when he noticed him. He wasn’t sure how he missed him the first time around. He didn’t look like the other Jans— he seemed incredibly uncomfortable in their dance circle. He was pushed towards the edge, away from the grinding of hips, away from anybody drunkenly leaning against him. He didn’t look so uncomfortable about being out, he seemed to be enjoying sipping the dark liquid in his cup, but to Kuroo, it seemed like the Jans weren’t his people. He snorted quietly. That sucks.

Kuroo almost looked away, but what happened next sent the tall boy spiraling into what he can only describe as a scene from a movie. The lights of the bar flashed across the boy’s face from across the room, a shining beam of silver across his face. Time slowed down to a crawling speed. He was tall— not as tall as himself, he could tell that much— and his hair fell across his face in pieces, wisps of hair, dark and light at at he same time. Was it _green_? And his eyes were dark, calculating, searching the crowd, and then suddenly connected with Kuroo’s. He was startled, at first. Unable to look away, to mask his watching, and the boy knew immediately that he had been watching for longer than a moment. He watched as the boy’s mouth emerged from his cup, the corners of his lips curling. At first he thought it would be a cheeky smirk, a silent message to the handsome onlooker, but it wasn’t that at all. His lips peeled back to reveal a row of teeth, something animalistic, as if he were a wolf bearing his teeth at his prey. But then the meaning shifted, and his mouth returned to a natural grin, as if he had to remind himself how to do it properly. His lips curled into a half grin, one eye winking smoothly. Kuroo felt his cheeks go hot with embarrassment and he turned away quickly.

He tried to pretend he wasn’t looking and waited a little bit before glancing back at the Jans to steal another look at this mysterious green-haired boy, but when he did, the boy was staring back, hiding his wicked grin behind his cup again. Kuroo immediately pulled himself away from his corner and hurried to catch up with his friends. He didn’t want to be the subject of any jokes the Jans were about to share, so he tried to make it seem as nonchalant as possible that he just _happened_ to be staring at the only boy in the crowd who caught his attention all night.

Bokuto and Akaashi didn’t even react when Kuroo returned bearing an almost empty cup of beer and a wide-eyed expression. Bokuto was happily singing along and Akaashi was leaning into the moment, no longer trying to escape from his friend’s grasp. But Kuroo was ready to hide and hiding was impossible on top of a pool table. He grabbed Akaashi’s hand and helped pull him down. Bokuto cried out in frustration and hopped down, frowning.

“What’s going on? I was having fun.” His bottom lip stuck out in a small pout.

“Let’s go dance over here!” Kuroo hooked arms with both of his friends and pulled them somewhere in the opposite direction of the boy. Bokuto and Akaashi exchanged a silent glance, raising their eyebrows in confusion, but followed Kuroo anyway. It was unlike Kuroo to run away from a situation, so this couldn’t have been that. Right?

“Over here? But nobody is dancing over here.” Bokuto continued to pout, stomping behind Kuroo like a small child as Akaashi rolled his eyes.

“We’ll bring the dancing with us. This place looks so much better!” Kuroo promised. He sent a quick glance behind him to check to see if the green-haired boy was still watching. When he found the Jans, now much further away, the boy was no longer standing there. A moment of relief washed over him and he turned to his friends to dance close to them, hiding behind their tall frames.

But nothing got past Akaashi.

“Uh, Kuroo?”

Kuroo blinked once, “Huh.” Why was he so out of it?

“Are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

Akaashi tried to follow Kuroo’s gaze with his eyes and found only the group of Jans on the other side of the bar. There were too many people crowded around one another to paint a clear picture. Akaashi raised an eyebrow and put a steadying hand on Kuroo’s elbow.

“You look like you just saw a ghost.” Akaashi’s eye’s widened slightly, lowering his voice. “Did you see your ex?”

Kuroo snapped back to the present with that. “What? No, what?”

He shouldn’t be this unsteady, it wasn’t the first time he caught the eye of a cute guy from across the room, but he couldn’t shake the sudden chill he felt down his spine. He felt like he should be afraid for some reason. He felt like he _couldn’t_ look at the boy without being afraid. He knew in his core he wasn’t, but _something_ wasn’t sitting right. Maybe this was an aggressive form of butterflies. How corny. It wasn’t like him to just _have_ butterflies like this.

Akaashi didn’t believe a word he said, taking note of this moment to hopefully bring it up in the morning time to ask again. Bokuto huffed heavily beside him.

“You’re being boring, now I don’t even want to dance. What happened while you were getting your drink?” He said.

Kuroo shook his head, “Guys, it’s nothing, really! Come on.”

Kuroo tried to get them back into it, downing the rest of his drink in one go. He started dancing and humming again and it did not take long for Bokuto to ease back into their routine. Time stretched on again, the nighttime fading quicker than they hoped. It was always a sad feeling when the music began to wind down and the patrons of the bar began to disperse to make it back home at a somewhat reasonable hour. Preferably before the sun came up. And Kuroo and his friends found themselves in the same situation, closing out their tabs, hooking arms to not get lost as they walked through the bar towards the exit.

If they walked far enough, there was a bus they could pile into that would take them back to their dorms. It was meant to promote safer drinking by removing the risk of drinking and driving. That did help and it also promoted going way harder than you normally would because there was an easy way to get home. The only issue with the bus was that everybody who was in a bar on this street found themselves gathering together again at a bus stop as they waited. It was as if an entire bar moved outside. Plenty of opportunities to socialize with others, and for Kuroo, plenty of time to hide in groups from the Jans.

Bokuto saw some friends and the group all stood together, chatting and laughing, as they still rode the high feeling of intoxication. It was cold outside. January was always hit or miss. It was either cool, with winter mild and teasing, or it was a bitterly cold winter wonderland promising nothing but long treks through snow to get to class. It was a more mild January, some people weren’t even wearing jackets. Kuroo pulled his closer around him, watching as his friends appeared completely unaffected by the chill. He frowned and rubbed his arms, wondering how much longer this was going to take. He was too cold to focus on the conversation and found the joy from his drink fading faster than he’d like. He was approaching the moodier stages of drinking. The hangover. He grit his teeth and rocked on his heels.

Akaashi noticed, of course he did, and shot him a quizzical glance. Kuroo shook it off and put his eyes somewhere else. Anywhere else was better than being under Akaashi’s stare. And he immediately wished he hadn’t.

He saw him again. The green-haired boy. But he wasn’t looking this time. He was chatting with another Jan, but something was different. His face was softer, eyelids heavy on his face as he chatted cooly, lips pulling as he cackled and smirked. He seemed arrogant, proud. He seemed confident for being a new student. Too cool to understand the function of his actual role. It was easier to watch him this way, without his eyes piercing into him. So Kuroo did. And he couldn’t look away, even when Bokuto called his name.

“Kuroo? Hey, Kuroo!”

Bokuto’s loud voice carried and the boy looked over. The breath was pulled from Kuroo’s mouth as he saw him. The green-haired boy grinned again, the same chilling one from before with his lips pulled back over his teeth as if he were some wild animal. It was not the same laughing smirk from before. The green-haired boy didn’t seem surprised that he was looking. The boy winked again and Kuroo saw his name spelled out on his mouth:

_Kuroo?_

He stuck his tongue out at him. Kuroo blinked in surprise. Really? His brows furrowed together and he watched the boy cackle in return, turning away from him. Kuroo did not understand how _unreasonably_ unfair it was that this mysterious new Jan knew his name and he didn’t.

“Do you know him?” Bokuto asked, innocently.

“No, of course not,” he retorted, earning an annoyed look from Bokuto.

“Is he who you were running from?” Akaashi asked, clearly connecting the dots quicker than Bokuto.

“I wasn’t running from anybody.”

“Well, you must’ve done something to him, it doesn’t seem like he likes you too much,” Bokuto said, as the boy started elbowing his peers and gestured towards them, snickering to himself.

Kuroo shrugged and turned away, trying to ignore the feeling of eyes on his back. He wished he would just leave him alone, he didn’t do anything to earn this kind of attention. And the sinking, twisty feeling came back to his stomach, and he knew that this time it was not butterflies, it was anger. Perhaps misplaced anger, but still it sat and festered anyway.

He loaded the bus with his friends when it finally arrived. He sat beside Akaashi and crossed his arms over his chest, staring out the window, wanting nothing more than to get into bed and sleep the weirdness off. The bus was still loud, filled with young adults too drunk to keep a respectable noise level, but it was loud enough to keep his thoughts at bay and the judgements about himself silenced.

“What’s up with you tonight?”

Kuroo didn’t have to look at Akaashi to know how he was staring at him with his eyebrows knitted together and his chin tucked in. He sighed heavily, shrugging his shoulders. Akaashi wouldn’t accept that as an answer, Kuroo knew it, but that didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it anymore. He didn’t understand the situation enough as is.

“You can talk to me now or in the morning.”

Kuroo let his head lull back against the seat of the bus, eyes falling shut. He finally realized how exhausted he was. Something about the searching expression of the green-haired boy left him physically drained and his head a little bit mystified and confused. As if there was a pull hidden somewhere in the universe, but less in a magnetic way, and more in an intentional, forceful kind of way. If the butterflies were evil and ate you from the inside out.

“There’s nothing to really talk about,” he admitted, quietly. “I think the alcohol isn’t sitting right, is all.”

“Are you going to throw up?” Akaashi asked.

“No. Not like that.”

The dark-haired boy beside him shrugged. “Alcohol is a depressant, you know.”

Kuroo could not have his eyes roll harder. “It isn’t like that either, Akaashi.”

Akaashi frowned and tried to catch his friend’s gaze, but Kuroo intentionally stared outside the window as the rest of the students piled into the bus. Occasionally he glanced towards the entrance to make sure the green-haired boy didn’t board, otherwise the trip would have been even more exhausting than it already was.

This wasn’t just an annoying Jan being a Jan. This was something else and he couldn’t quite describe it. Clearly his friends could tell something was wrong and he was too smart to know they wouldn’t drop it just because he did. Akaashi sat poised in his seat, expectant of Kuroo to start talking but not in a place to push just yet. The pushing would come tomorrow.

Kuroo eased into his seat when the bus door closed and they started to pull out of the parking lot to head back up to the campus. The boy wasn’t on the bus. He was safe from his glares.

But, of course, that was not the case. He let his eyes fall onto the parking lot as the bus pulled out and standing there, separated from his pack, the same green-haired boy waited. His eyes were narrowed as he found Kuroo’s, his lopsided grin just as primal and menacing as before, and— it could be from the drinks and the exhaustion in his bones but Kuroo _swears_ — the edges of his threatening white teeth were razor sharp.

He sucked in a sharp breath and tore his eyes away, sinking into his seat, trying to disappear out of the boy’s vision. Akaashi noticed and kept his mouth shut, letting Kuroo cope on his own. Kuroo’s breathing regulated after a few slow and steady breaths and he shook his head, convincing himself that it was only an accident that he caught his gaze like that. He probably wasn’t even looking his way. And why was it that nobody else seemed to notice him? Why was nobody else having the same reaction?

It didn’t make any sense to him.

None of it.

Kuroo shuddered.


	2. One Moment

It always took a few extra days for the Jans to start classes formally. The school programming was also so wonky and weird right when they arrived. It was almost like Admissions didn’t know how to cope with the sudden influx of students despite being the ones who admitted them in the first place. People were moved around in classes, some sections were too large and had to shrink, some ended up way too tiny and professors would request to join another block in the day to accommodate more students. Not only did Jans arriving influence the social circles of the school, they somehow managed to devastate the functionality of the Dean of Students Office. Lines would form outside of the office buildings as students more or less patiently waited for their opportunity to beg to be placed in a certain class with a specific professor. It was unfortunate, especially in the winter months where the weather was cold and there was always an overcast with the threat of snow. Or worse— sleet.

The thought of trudging through mushy brown ice and snow really made Kuroo’s stomach churn. It was the only significant downside of Forks University. The campus was not large enough to need a car to navigate and it was not small enough to quickly get from one place to another on foot. So when the weather turned for the worst, there was no escaping it. Fortunately, today was not one of those days where fluffy flakes of snow covered the ground and students had to break out their snow boots to attempt to make it to class on time, but that did not take away from the biting chill that seemed to come overnight. Kuroo’s jacket was thick and warm around him, but his face was unprotected from the biting cold turning the tips of his ears and his nose slightly pinker than the rest of his face.

It wouldn’t have mattered if he wore his coat today. It wouldn’t have mattered if he had worn an extra layer under his sweater or a scarf around his neck. Anything he did to keep warm was futile against the chill in his bones that he could not seem to shake since last Friday. He’d hoped isolating in his bedroom for the rest of the weekend would get him out of this funk, but it never did go away completely. By Monday it had eased to something manageable that did not make it seem like he was losing his mind or developing some unknown and terrifying illness. 

Akaashi and Bokuto didn’t say another word about the strangeness of the night while out. Kuroo wasn’t sure Bokuto was fully aware of the situation, but didn’t doubt that Akaashi had shared some hushed words to him on their own time. It wasn’t like Akaashi to let the conversation slip away without addressing it again. Especially not after he had made the quiet promise to Kuroo on the bus. Every day that Akaashi didn’t mention his behavior made Kuroo’s stomach twist with fear a little bit more. It wasn’t that he was afraid of what Akaashi would have to say or the depth of whatever judgements he and Bokuto made— it was never that. He was more nervous about who  _ else  _ Akaashi would share this information with. He was more nervous that somebody who could read him like an open book would receive word of this information and force him to come to terms with whatever was happening to him. No hesitating. No stuttering. No holding back.

Kuroo shuffled past a pair of chattering students as he made his way into the dining hall for a late breakfast. So late that some might even start calling the meal lunch. He knew that his few moments of sanity based in sheer avoidance were soon to evaporate as he shrugged off his coat, eyes searching across the busy Mess. The Mess wasn’t the nicest dining hall on campus, but it was definitely the largest. Scattered across his floor were small round tables matched with larger round tables with friend groups cramped together to get the maximum amount of people at the table at the time. The larger long rectangle tables were often found pushed together for the largest of the friend groups, including teams and sororities of the like. It was loud with students grabbing quick meals before their afternoon class. It was the rush before the major lunch rush. But Kuroo knew to keep his eyes away from the larger of the tables. He wouldn’t find his friends there.

Then he spotted them.

It was a small table with only a few chairs pulled up to it. He spotted the taller of the three immediately. Bokuto’s dark hair contrasted with stark white streaks styled to perfection pulled his attention the quickest. He was also the loudest once Kuroo’s focus was drawn, watching him cackle with laughter as he stood over the table, patiently waiting for Akaashi to finish his last mouthful of cereal. Akaashi stood and matched Bokuto’s height, giants compared to the other boy still sitting at the table with only a bowl of fruit before him. Akaashi gathered his bowl to deliver to the dish return, pausing only when he raised his eyes and found Kuroo’s. Kuroo grinned, nodding his head as a greeting as he traveled over to where his friends hovered. It was easy, a simple routine they had developed during the previous semesters. This was their late breakfast time, always together, always at the same table, each of them sitting at their appropriate side. But as Akaashi glanced down at the boy still seated, Kuroo nearly stopped dead in his tracks. There was a silent exchange, a curl of lips, and chuckle shared between the two. Bokuto didn’t notice, but he wasn’t meant to. 

The boy seated turned and looked at Kuroo. He was small, much smaller compared to his gigantic friends. His face was softer, more pointed and feminine, and his hair, blond and darker at the roots, hung pin-straight, framing his face. It was his eyes that caught him up. They were calculating cat-like eyes, but that was not what startled him. His eyes were always serious and disquieting— this time his eyes were twinkling with information, teeming with curiosity, and finally, completely and totally unwavering against the silent pleading Kuroo desperately tried to relay back.

Of course, Akaashi would tell Kenma.

And Kenma would absolutely root the information out of him. And it would be easy for him. Just as easy as it was for Kuroo to walk over to the table.

“Hey, Kuroo,” Bokuto said, smirking widely.

“We were just headed to class. Late start this morning?” Akaashi wondered, the faintest smile playing at his lips.

Kuroo felt his expression darken, if only slightly. “I couldn’t find my backpack. That’s all.”

Akaashi raised his eyebrows and nodded, not buying a word of it. He shrugged, waving goodbye to Kenma as he and Bokuto walked away, leaning close to each other and chattering politely.

Kuroo bit back his scowl and sucked in a sharp breath, dropping his backpack onto the floor. He sighed heavily as he lowered himself onto the chair. Kenma didn’t speak immediately, carefully picking up a piece of watermelon and taking a timid bite, as if he bit too quickly it would all disintegrate and disappear into his bowl. He chewed, thoughtfully, purposefully giving Kuroo the opportunity to try and pick apart his thoughts knowing that it was impossible, however try Kuroo did. Eventually, with an exasperated huff, Kuroo thumped his head on the table.

“Fine. Say it.” His voice was muffled by the table.

“Are you not getting food?”

Kuroo’s head snapped up, face twisting with bewilderment. “Wait, what?”

Kenma’s eyebrows knitted together, his voice its usual soft-spoken tone. “Are you not hungry? You really should try eating. The watermelon is good today.”

Kuroo blinked. “Did Akaashi not say anything to you?”

“Akaashi says many things to me, is there something in particular I’m supposed to hear from him?” Kenma’s head only tilted slightly.

Kuroo realized he had now opened the door himself. Not gracefully. Not elegantly. He busted through the door at full speed, tumbled through it, and managed to earn a splinter for his incompetence. Kenma’s eyes twinkled. He took another slow bite of his watermelon and gingerly pat his mouth with his napkin, waiting for the wheels in Kuroo’s brain to catch up with the rest of him.

“I’m not hungry,” Kuroo said, at last, leaning back in his chair and setting his jaw. He was frustrated. Not at his friend, but at himself for putting himself in this situation. It didn’t matter how many steadying breaths he took, the chill never left his chest. It didn’t matter how hard he tried to filter, Kenma would pull the truth from him soon enough. He may as well lean into the experience as best he can. Kuroo met his eye with cool confidence, despite his chilled bones.

“We’re just eating breakfast, Kuroo.”

“So, you’re not going to ask me anything?”

Kenma shrugged. “I figured if it was important you would come to me.”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “What did Akaashi tell you?”

“That you were sick Friday. He said something about mixing your alcohols.” He paused. “Did you end up throwing up? Because that’s really gross.”

Kuroo knew Kemna was identifying each faltering phrase, noting every quirk of expression, memorizing the slump of his shoulders despite holding his posture and keeping his own face blank. If Kuroo tried to do the same thing, sweat would bead on his forehead and he would likely need a nap shortly after. It was unimaginable the processing power of his smaller blond friend, but that’s why he liked him so much. There was so much more to him than his presentation. To a stranger he was quiet and shy, bored and uninterested. To Kuroo, he was deeply thoughtful and curious. He was the smartest person Kuroo knew. And with certain people, Kenma would share his insights, coloring the greyed pages of the unknown. Even though his pride yelled at him to turn away, to play his game and pretend that Kenma did not know a single thing, Kuroo hoped that secretly he held the answers to cease his worrying thoughts.

“No, I didn’t throw up,” he said. “I wished I had, maybe that would make my stomach feel better.”

“Are you anxious? You seem anxious,” said Kenma, without looking up from his fruit bowl. “I can tell because you keep glancing around the room. Like you’re trying to catch somebody watching you.”

Kuroo felt his cheeks flushing and cleared his throat to break the silence between them. Was he doing that? How often has that been happening since last Friday? He quickly grabbed a piece of fruit from Kenma’s bowl and ate it, trying to give his hands, and related, his eyes, something to pay attention to.

“Well,” he tried, chewing his food. “Is there somebody watching me?” If anybody was going to know the answer to that question, Kenma would be the one.

Kenma did not scan the room. “People are always watching other people.” He frowned, it was tiny. He very ends of his lips curved downward. “That was mine.”

“M’sorry.” Kuroo grabbed another piece and shoved it into his mouth. “I dunno, I can’t stop right now.”

Kenma’s frown deepened slightly and he sighed, pushing the bowl in front of Kuroo completely. Kuroo didn’t stop. Kenma sat in silence, studying his friend as he ate the rest of his food. His eyes flashed around the Mess briefly, taking the scenery in. After a few moments, Kenma leaned back into his seat and lowered his gaze to his hands in his lap, fidgeting with his thumbs.

“There’s a lot of Jans this semester.”

Kuroo stared at Kenma and he knew he had struck a nerve. Kuroo swallowed the last of the fruit and leaned in close to Kenma, afraid that if he spoke too loudly, an eavesdropper would be able to make out his words. 

“Isn’t there only a set number of Jans every year?” Kuroo asked in a hushed tone.

Kenma did not lean in nor did he lower his voice. He was quiet enough. “Yes. I think in previous years they all slid under the radar pretty seamlessly. I think these Jans stick out more. But I don’t think it’s intentional.” 

Kenma gestured with his eyes for Kuroo to look across the Mess. Kuroo was not nearly as subtle as Kenma had wanted, especially since Kuroo stood a few inches taller than most of the tallest members of the community, so when he whipped around, hunched over in his chair as if he were hidden by it, he caught the attention of a few people. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like the pair of Jans Kenma was referencing noticed.

One walked gracefully as if he had never taken a misstep in his life. Confident and elegant. Precise with each motion. It was like a dance as he strolled to his table with his tray of food in hand. His eyes glimmered with laughter and the kindest smile on his lips. His hair was light and ashy, silvery to look at. The other was a little bit taller than him, a mess of dark short locks upon his head. His eyes glimmered in the same way, but instead of laughter, it was a gentle intensity. An intensity that filled your soul with fire to burn every evil thing down, not the kind that startled you into action. He marched alongside his friend, equally as graceful, his strong shoulders set and confident. He appeared unbreakable.

They weren’t doing anything to catch attention. They just held the attention. Kuroo wasn’t the only one with curious and wandering eyes. They were just chatting. Walking to their table to meet another Jans. Kuroo didn’t notice the rest, he already felt as if he were intruding.

Kenma shrugged. “They’re different.”

Kuroo scowled. “Can you tell if there is one with green-hair sitting with them?”

Kenma may have looked, Kuroo couldn’t tell, but he shook his head anyway.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, he gives me the creeps, or something.” Kuroo shuddered.

“Or something?”

“I’m not sure. He kept looking at me at the bar the other night. And after that, I felt a little uneasy. Do you think he’s friends with the rest of the Jans? Those two don’t look nearly as intimidating as the one I saw.”

Kenma didn’t say anything for another long pause. “I don’t know for sure.” For the first time, Kuroo felt like Kenma wasn’t revealing something. As if he had a thought and it was just stuck somewhere in his throat. Like he wanted to share, but didn’t know how. Then, in an instant, the feeling was gone as Kenma abruptly stood up from the table they shared. “Besides, it’s likely you’re going to have a class with them with all the new changes to everybody’s schedules.”

Kuroo completely forgot about the schedule changes. His schedule wasn’t altered, but that doesn’t mean nobody else’s was.

“Please tell me you’re still in my biology lab block.” Kuroo almost wanted to look away, fearful of Kenma’s response.

He groaned when Kenma shook his head. “No, I got moved to the Wednesday block.”

The sinking feeling in his stomach came back and he suddenly regretted eating the rest of Kenma’s fruit. He stood up, collecting the bowl to put away in the dish return. He looked at his friend with pleading eyes, begging him to come with him anyway. Kenma was his lab partner. And he had no idea who else was left in the block he could potentially partner up with. If he couldn’t plan this, it was out of his control and left to the uncertainties of the rest of the universe. And that could not be. He wasn’t exactly the luckiest of people recently.

“You look ridiculous. And you’re going to be late.” Kenma pulled his backpack over his shoulder. “See you later. Please don’t skip the class. No one is going to bite you there.”

As Kenma waved his goodbye and headed towards the exit to make it to his own class, Kuroo couldn’t shake the thought that what he said wasn’t totally accurate.

***

The walk to the biology lab was the longest journey of his life. The soft brick pathway that lead up to the science building seemed to stretch on and on, miles ahead of him, and his boots felt as if they were made of lead. Each step he took seemed to take the breath out of him, so by the time he approached the entrance of the tall glass building, he was panting as if he had been out on a run.

It took him a moment to collect himself, squaring his shoulders, swelling his chest to create an image of false pride and confidence. At the very least, he wasn’t going to appear terrified. He wasn’t going to present as if he would rather be anywhere else in the world. He would take this sticky situation and lean into it. If the green-haired boy was there, then so be it. He would endure him and his glares. If he wasn’t, then he got all worked up for no reason. And besides, what are the chances one very specific Jan would be placed exactly into the very same biology lab that Kuroo was taking? Kuroo liked his odds, even if the sinking feeling didn’t cease in the slightest. He hooked his thumbs into the straps of his backpack, took a deep breath, put on his best crooked grin, and made his way to the biology lab.

He would be lying if he said the intense shuddering feeling of sweet success didn’t leave him breathless as he stepped into the lab.

The room was set up into five thick black lab benches spaced evenly around the room. The lab benches sat four per table, sharing a collection of laminated paper with the expectations of the lab course. His eyes immediately sought out the too familiar and jarring face of the green-haired boy and when he didn’t find him, the rush of relief made his vision go blurry as all the air was pulled from his lungs. His head began to spin and a goofy smirk spread across his lips as he stumbled towards whatever open seat he found first. At this point, he did not care anymore. His one major anxiety was alleviated. Sitting at a table of strangers was suddenly the easiest thing he could do.

With a solid thump, he smacked his head against his arms laid flat on the table, and the silliest of giggles bubbled up from his throat. He was free, at least for the next few hours lab was in session.

“Um, are you okay?” The voice was polite and timidly concerned. “Did you just hit your head on the table?”

Kuroo raised his head quickly, snapping back into the reality around him. There was no green-haired boy. He was still in lab. There were still people around him that had no idea of the internal conflict he had just tackled upon arriving. He couldn’t simply  _ react  _ the way he did without  _ at least  _ introducing himself. The tips of his ears were hot with flush from embarrassment, his grin widening even further as an offer of apology. His vision was still a little blurred at the edges, so it took him a moment to realize which table he decided to claim as his own.

He sat at a table with two Jans. Not the Jans who shuffled around the school anxiously reading the names of the buildings to make sure they walked into the correct one. Not the Jans who shied away from the established friend groups. Not the Jans who made the most sense.

The  _ other  _ Jans.

The ones who held all the attention.

And these two were no different.

The one speaking to him was the same one from the cafeteria, but staring at him from afar did not come close to the experience of sitting directly in front of him. His skin was fair and clear, with a luminescence that only seemed to leak from his fine pores like tiny crystals smoothed over a hundred times. His hair was shiny and ashy, more silver than a dull grey like some of the others at the school tried to pull off. His eyes were rounded with concern, yet the glimmering from before was still there. Prominent and profound. Kuroo felt the urge to spill his entire life story before this boy, just so he can be comforted by him. Just so he can be encouraged by him. It was as if he were trying to uplift his spirits with his eyes alone. His head tilted, curiously, to the side, gazing at the incapacitated boy before him with wonder.

“Um, hello?” He spoke again. “Are you okay? You look dazed. Did you just give yourself a concussion?”

It was a miracle Kuroo managed to find his voice at all. “Oh, sorry. Yes. I’m Kuroo. Hi.”

The boy smiled in response and Kuroo’s head went fuzzy again, as if he were being put under a spell. “I’m Sugawara. It’s nice to meet you!”

“Kuroo is the coolest name I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

Kuroo had to shake his head to break the spell Sugawara had him under to pull his attention to the other Jan that sat beside him. It didn’t take long for the same feeling to wash over him and the currents to pull him under and his head was sent spiraling all over again. The boy to his side had the same effect as his counterpart. Instead of ashy hair, this boy had a heaping head of thick and messy vibrant orange hair and the widest pair of curious and excited amber eyes. His skin was just as clear and smooth as Sugawara’s, but instead of seeping with kindness, this boy filled Kuroo’s chest up with an unmatchable warmth. He was almost buzzing in his seat, filled to the brim with an eagerness to experience that Kuroo had never seen before.

“My name is Hinata, which isn’t nearly as cool,” he said. “But it’ll do. I wish my parents had thought of something as awesome as Kuroo though. I once asked if they had had any alternate names for me when I was a baby, but they only suggested really boring ones. Like—” 

“ _ Hinata _ , _ ”  _ Sugawara said sharply, ending the tangent before it could begin.

Hinata covered his mouth with his hands and giggled. “Oops, sometimes I start talking and I don’t know when to stop.”

Kuroo stared at the pair, dumbfounded. People like Sugawara and Hinata didn’t exist. They were so  _ normal _ and so unbelievably  _ not _ at the same time. He studied them for a long time, trying to put a finger onto what it was about them that exactly made him not want to look away. Both boys were unique in their own ways, attractive in others, but something just poured out of them that made Kuroo want to run away screaming into the night and wrap his arms around them in a tight embrace at the same time. 

A chill started to creep up his spine and he swallowed hard. It was the same feeling that plagued his bones for the entire weekend. The same feeling that he experienced at the bar when the green-haired boy looked at him. But sitting before Hinata and Sugawara was different. He didn’t fear them in the same way, yet the fear was still there. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t label the fear. There was no reason for it to exist at all, and still it did. And he wondered when this misery would end for him.

Kuroo pushed his bangs out of his face and put on the best grin he could muster. “Hinata is a pretty cool name too, I think.”

If Hinata’s eyes could grow any larger, they did in that moment. The immediate gratification Kuroo received from the joy that twinkled in his eyes warmed whatever chill he was ignoring. And his smile eased into a natural one and soon followed a comfortable laugh. Sugawara chuckled alongside him.

“Well, now his little head is going to be too big for his body,” Sugawara teased.

Kuroo didn’t even notice how significantly shorter Hinata was compared to his friend. His presence just took up so much space. Kuroo bit back a retort and his own laugh, not too eager to overstep in his budding new relationship with the two Jans, but the laughter tickled in his throat anyway.

Hinata stared at Sugawara with false anger and narrowed eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Sugawara only laughed in response and Kuroo decided he liked his laugh. “Tell me, Kuroo,” he continued, focusing his sparkling eyes on the tall, dark haired boy before him. “Are you expecting anybody else to fill up our table?”

Kuroo shook his head, shoulders falling as his comfort around the boys grew. He didn’t even realize how tense he was. “No, usually I have this block with my friend Kenma, but he got switched out. All the scheduling issues are pretty annoying. I bet Kenma would like you guys.”

Sugawara and Hinata both beamed.

“Sorry about the scheduling stuff, I guess most of it is our fault.” Hinata shrugged. “But I’d like to meet Kenma! I love making new friends! It gets boring hanging out with the same group of people all the time.” He rolled his eyes in Sugawara’s direction, but the ashy haired boy didn’t seem to be offended. If anything, his eyes twinkled knowingly, as if they shared an unspoken joke with one another.

“I only asked because we were hoping to save this last seat for our friend. He’s running a little late. He isn’t very good at keeping track of the time,” said Sugawara.

Hinata snorted, earning a soft poke in the ribs with his friend’s elbow. 

Kuroo laughed quietly and nodded. “I hope I’m not intruding on your lab table.”

“Not at all!” Sugawara waved his hand in Kuroo’s direction, smiling reassuringly at him. Kuroo couldn’t help but smile back. 

All of his anxieties and fears melted away and Kuroo’s previously chilled bones were no longer icy and breakable. The Jans were intimidating, that’s for certain, however at this current moment, Kuroo felt accepted by them. Under normal circumstances, it was the other way around— Jans desperately trying to fit in and establish themselves among the other students. But both Hinata and Sugawara were welcoming of him and it seemed, with their approval, the fear slowly disappeared, fading away to a point where Kuroo decided in that moment he would befriend the pair.

But that’s how quickly things changed in the world, Kuroo would come to learn.

One moment, he promised to himself that Hinata and Sugawara were worth it.

“Oh, look, he’s made it, just in time!” Hinata called, waving his arms to get the attention of the student who just walked in. “Daishou! Hey, Daishou, this seat is for you!”

Kuroo turned to look over to see who would be joining him at the lab bench and the color drained from his face.

He saw his eyes first. 

Striking. Terrifying. Cruel.

Then the teeth.

Flashing. Menacing. Wicked.

The next moment, he promised to himself that Daishou was a creature of his nightmares.


	3. Biology

_ Daishou _ .

His name was Daishou.

Now the playing grounds were equal. Now the stakes were the same. A name for a name. One versus one. No person knew more about the other.

And still, Kuroo trembled before him.

The experience was not unfamiliar. An enchanting haze filtered over Kuroo’s mind, making his thoughts slur together in a mindless babble. Words tried to string together, emotions tried to attach themselves to thoughts, but nothing stuck the way they were supposed to. It was as if he had been dropped into a great ocean and sank to the very bottom. He felt himself pulled towards the ocean floor, resting in the sands as if it were the only thing he could identify as reality. His brain felt as if it were disconnected from his reality and all he was aware of was the pulsing of the ocean, the gentle push and pull of the currents, the sensation of gravity failing him as his limbs drifted with the waves. It was dreamlike. He was floating. 

It was a tranquil feeling. A general sense of calmness. Of nothingness. Not a single thought to disrupt him. Just push and pull. Back and forth. Simple. Peaceful. And the lull of the ocean guided him towards Daishou as if it were the only thing he could do. The only thing he was meant to do.

Daishou’s eyes were still narrowed, knowingly, watching Kuroo carefully. He moved with grace, but not in the same dance-like way Sugawara did. Daishou’s movements were effortless, like he was floating underwater alongside Kuroo’s mind, an edge of coolness about him that indicated he had never once in his entire existence regret a single step he has ever taken. And he approached Kuroo, closer than he ever had before, and pointed a slender finger at the empty seat directly next to him.

“Is this supposed to be mine?”

Daishou did not even pretend he had never held the eyes of the tall dark haired boy who watched him with wild eyes and mouth agape. He did not even pretend his name he muttered was the first time ever spoken by his lips. He did not even pretend that he had spent many moments painting a picture in his mind about how this interaction would inevitably come. And the grin he wore on his mouth was as menacing and twisted as the one Kuroo saw behind his eyelids with every unfortunate blink.

Floating underwater was only as tranquil as lungs could last. And Kuroo’s did not last that long.

“Yeah, that’s the only open option—” Hinata’s sentence broke in half.

The fear came hurtling at Kuroo. The calmness of resting upon the sandy ocean floor exploded as the ache in his chest demanded air return to him. He released a shuddering, desperate breath and he found relief in the rush of oxygen into his chest. The fear bubbled and boiled and sent sharp, painful shivers along his forearms leaving a path of gooseflesh in response as Daishou raised a curious eyebrow at him. Kuroo tore his eyes away, cheeks flush with anger and shame at the all too uncomfortable emotions that were plain on his face as they jumped from peace to terror in a blink of an eye. 

But he did not miss the twisting expression on Daishou’s face. His eyes widened and his jaw clamped shut, the smirk disappearing instantly, replaced with something unreadable in his eyes. It was still something venomous, something poisonous.

“Actually, can I sit beside you, Suga?” Daishou’s words were forced through clenched teeth.

Kuroo did not even have the strength to retort, he turned his back to the boy behind him, unwilling to meet his gaze any longer. This was becoming  _ ridiculous _ . He was a  _ university student _ . He did not have time to feel disappointed that somebody in his biology class did not want to sit next to him. He crossed his arms before him and stared at Sugawara and Hinata with hard eyes. Sugawara’s brows were furrowed, lips pulling into the softest frown as he intently watched Daishou’s movements which were now awkward and forced. The coolness about him from before was replaced with the jerky movements of a young fawn trying to learn to walk for the first time. Hinata moved to offer his seat up to Daishou, but was quickly redirected by the professor’s sharp and commanding tone.

“If you would all sit down, I’d like to get started this hour.”

Hinata sank slowly to his seat, eyes not leaving his friend who slowly,  _ painfully slow _ , lowered himself in the seat beside Kuroo at the lab bench. The chair squeaked piercingly as he moved it further away from Kuroo. At this point, he had to steal a glance, curiosity and the slow burn of anger getting to the best of him. When he looked, for the first time, Daishou was not looking back. He was staring seriously and intently ahead, face twisted with pain. Kuroo glanced first to Hinata and then to Sugawara, wondering if he could pull some answers from them, but their expressions were serious, locked onto Daishou, as if they were waiting for him to do something. Kuroo’s stomach clenched as the thought filtered into his head— Oh, God, was Daishou going to throw up?

That was the only thing he could read from his face. A face he could look at now that his intense stare was somewhere else, focused purposefully on the professor as he began his introduction to the class, but it was clear he was not retaining a single word he said. To Kuroo, it seemed as if Daishou was trying to slow his breathing to a point where he just  _ wasn’t  _ anymore. The only experience Kuroo had similar to what Daishou appeared to be going through was whenever he had reached the point of his nights out when he was forcing himself to take slow and regulated breaths because nausea struck so badly he was certain he was going to throw up.

Then, it was guilt that Kuroo felt bubbling in his chest. He couldn’t find it in him to hate this green-haired boy. Fear was one thing, but in this moment, he felt bad. It surprised him, this sudden overwhelming feeling of wanting to help Daishou. Getting sick in class must be one of the worst things to happen on your first day. He took a breath, watching as Daishou tensed beside him, and leaned close to him to whisper under his breath, “Hey, are you okay?”

Daishou was as rigid and still as a statue. His eyes slid over without the rest of his body turning towards Kuroo. His teeth were still gritted and his voice was low in his throat, like a rumble from his chest, “Don’t talk to me.”

Kuroo was not expecting that.

He blinked.

“Excuse me?”

Daishou removed his eyes, “You heard me. Do not speak to me.”

He stared at him with wide eyes, noting that Daishou visibly began to curl into himself, inching his body further and further away from Kuroo. He glanced towards Sugawara, desperate for some semblance of understanding of Daishou’s sudden change in behavior. Sugawara’s kind face was hardened, his jaw clenched and the muscles in his neck tensed with some kind of worry. It was as if his eyes were searching deeply into Daishou, ripping him apart piece by piece, and judging the very core of him. Then he looked to Hinata. Hinata’s rounded amber eyes stared in awe at the professor at the head of the classroom, presumably unaware of the tension between the rest of his lab bench. Kuroo frowned and tried as best he could to ease back into the class setting, leaning not so comfortably against the bench, forcing his eyes on the professor and desperately trying to train his ears to his words. It took everything out of him not to glance back at Daishou.

***

Time moved at a snail’s pace, inching along, second by second seeming as if they were split by minutes that slowed into hours. This was easily the longest experience of Kuroo’s life. He sat, eyes forward, as he tried to follow the presentation his professor shared, as he tried to keep his focus on the professor before him, as he tried to keep his eyes anywhere but glancing to his right towards Daishou who sat curled up beside him. Daishou did not move from his position, shoulders hunched over himself as he tried to disappear into the seat. Daishou’s eyes were, to Kuroo’s contentment, boring into the professor’s, equally as determined as Kuroo’s to stay forward and focused. 

There was a tension between the pair that was palpable. When Kuroo moved, Daishou moved. They were in time with one another. Every breath that Kuroo took was matched with the exhale of Daishou, every fraction of an inch he leaned back Daishou matched by leaning away. Kuroo wanted to peer back at Hinata and Sugawara, but found it too difficult to cause such a disruption during the professor’s lecture. It wasn’t until the professor turned the lab groups in on themselves to start a collaborative assignment that the boys at the lab bench finally were able to exchange words again.

Daishou sat at the very end of the table, his face in a constant grimace, as he turned to face both Hinata and Sugawara again. Kuroo glanced at him curiously to find his eyes were closed shut and his hand floated above his mouth and nose as if at any moment he was going to be sick.

“Daishou, do you need to go to the bathroom?” Sugawara asked, a hint of warning in his voice.

Daishou shook his head and reopened his eyes, narrowing in on the assignment on the table, intentionally keeping his gaze away from Kuroo. Kuroo sighed heavily, earning a scowl from Daishou.

“Are you sure you’re good?” Kuroo tried, putting aside the feelings of discomfort for the sake of the boy. He looked as if he were in pain and it couldn’t be enjoyable suffering through an entire lab block wanting to be anywhere else in the world.

Daishou gritted his teeth and nodded slowly. He appeared as if he was trying to force his face into a more natural expression, taking a slow breath. He trembled with whatever slight chill he felt running along his spine. It didn’t last long though, because soon his wicked half-smirk broke across his face and he was muttering to the table again, “This would be so much easier if you idiots had picked a better lab table.”

Hinata audibly gasped while Sugawara narrowed his eyes, “Stop, Daishou.” 

Hinata looked hurt, frowning at Daishou and lifting his chin to retort, “If you’re late to class you don’t get to pick where we sit. You could've picked anywhere in the class, you didn’t have to sit with us if it was such an issue.”

Kuroo watched Hinata’s small face poised with defiance and annoyance and felt the anger return to his bones about as quickly as it had left. He scowled in return. “What’s your problem, Daishou?”

Daishou rolled his eyes and dramatically glanced at Kuroo, expressing a combination of pain and boredom, “My problem is you, Kuroo.”

The air was pulled out of his lungs. Did he really just say that? Did Daishou actually put into words the unspoken tension shared between him and Kuroo? The cold chill that he once knew so well melted away with the white hot fury that now made his heart race in his chest. If he ever felt fear of Daishou, that was no longer a thought in his mind. If he was ever uncomfortable in his presence, that no longer became a factor of his thinking. Instead, he met Daishou’s yellow eyes, glowing with a ferociousness that dared Kuroo to respond. It was a look that Kuroo knew to be one that was never challenged. There was never a counterpoint. Daishou only knew victory. Daishou only knew how to be the strongest.

“Well it’s a good thing you’re nobody to me, otherwise we would have quite the issue.” Kuroo’s lips curled into his own snarl.

Daishou matched it cooly, “Is that supposed to make me cry? I’ve seen you around, I’ve seen you looking. Don’t pretend this isn’t hard for you to hear. I. Don’t. Like. You.”

“Daishou, that’s enough—” Sugawara started.

“Shut up, Suga, I’m not  _ talking  _ to you right now.” He actually growled at Sugawara, the lowest rumble from his throat followed by biting words. “You don’t  _ get  _ to control me right now.”

Kuroo’s face flushed with anger, but his jaw was set, glaring into Daishou’s eyes with the same intensity Daishou shared. He didn’t even react to the sharpness of Daishou’s words, unbreakable against them because it is easier to hate someone then fear them. And if hating Daishou is what it took to be unmovable under his stare, then so it will be. Kuroo wanted nothing more than to watch Daishou’s confident eyes flicker with uncertainty and defeat. But he did not and if anything, the wretchedness behind them only grew.

“You have to be watching me also if you know I’m always looking. Clearly we aren’t going to be friends. You made it obvious by sitting seven feet away from me. What? Are you afraid I’m going to try and hold your hand?” Kuroo sneered.

“Actually, I’m way over here because you fucking  _ smell _ .”

Hinata snorted and tried to play off his laughter with a cough, but Kuroo caught the twinkle of humor in his eye when he whipped around to look at him. When Hinata caught Kuroo looking he started hacking into his elbow as if that would somehow mask him even further. Sugawara was glowering now, the gentle kindness of his features hardened by his own silent fury. Kuroo could tell he was thinking, his eyes fixed and observant of Daishou’s every movement. Despite Daishou’s anger, he didn’t flinch closer to Kuroo. He didn’t move a fraction of a centimeter in Kuroo’s direction. Even with all of the unpleasant words shared, Daishou held his ground. And he was unwavering.

Kuroo scowled, “I don’t smell, that’s so cheap.”

Daishou wrinkled his nose in response, wafting away an odor that didn’t exist. 

Kuroo fought the urge to raise his collar and give it a whiff, just to make sure, but there was no way he was going to do that in front of Daishou. It would bring him too much joy. Instead, Kuroo grit his teeth and leaned closer to the boy.

“I guess you’re going to have to get used to it. Because I’m not going anywhere. Hinata and Sugawara are my friends too.” Kuroo’s chest swelled with pride at the statement. He believed what he was saying. “So either sit with us or don’t at all.”

Daishou didn’t move away. He didn’t move at all. The invasion of Kuroo into his personal sphere only forced him to remain vigilant and rigid. He tried to hold his breath against Kuroo but Kuroo had leaned so far in— he had underestimated Kuroo’s stretch. But he wasn’t going to back down. It wasn’t in his nature.

“Do you truly believe either of them care about you at all?” Daishou pushed his luck and leaned towards Kuroo. It was Sugawara’s turn to hold his breath. “You’re just a teeny tiny fleck in their eyes. A moment. A pause. I will make sure you know your place. Don’t push your luck.”

“ _ Daishou. _ ”

Sugawara’s voice was sharp and startling, shaking Kuroo from his spell of rage and causing him to gasp in surprise. A flash of regret flickered across Daishou’s face and Kuroo  _ swore _ he saw a faint clouding of dark color start to filter into his eyes. For a brief moment, Kuroo was inches away from the face of a monster, twisted with darkness, veins in his neck pulsing, and teeth flashing in a threatening and animalistic way— and then it was gone again. And Daishou was standing and whirling away from the table and exiting the lab without looking back. It happened so quickly the professor didn’t even notice. Kuroo’s eyes were rounded with fear again and he stared blankly at the door, trying to process what had happened. 

“Come on, Kuroo, let’s finish this assignment up,” Sugawara said quietly, gathering the materials at the table and pushing them towards Kuroo to pull him from his daze.

He was moving in slow motion, going through the actions without another thought, while Sugawara made sure things were in the right order and place. Hinata had moved from his seat beside Sugawara and sat comfortably beside Kuroo. Close enough to him to let him know that he was not going to be like Daishou. That he was comfortable beside him. That he was happy beside him. And that he wasn’t going anywhere.

When Sugawara was raising his hand and asking the professor for assistance, Hinata leaned close to Kuroo to whisper, “I don’t think you smell at all. I like you. You’re different.” Kuroo didn’t reply, but he didn’t have to. Hinata’s smile was wide and honest and pure. Kuroo nodded. He found himself wondering what it would take to refuse anything from Hinata.

***

The lab ended and the boys left the lab bench together. There wasn’t any hesitation or conversation about it, Hinata and Sugawara fell into step beside Kuroo as they walked with so much ease one would wonder if they had been friends for a long time. The chatter they shared was soft-spoken and polite. Hinata’s eyes were wide with excitement and joy as he laughed at the pairing, racing ahead of them to stand at the base of the stairwell and pointing.

“Come on, Kuroo! I want you to meet the others!”

“The others?” Kuroo asked Sugawara, who didn’t find the urge to run ahead.

“The rest of our Jan class. Some of us have known each other for a long time. It’s lucky we all ended up at Forks together,” He answered, the faintest smile on his mouth. “These are some of my best friends.”

And Kuroo knew that to be true based on the way Sugawara’s eyes softened and his lips curled up slightly. Suga looked peaceful once again, a warmth spreading through him, and Kuroo felt the same pull he felt towards him the first time that they had spoken to each other. Enchanting and overwhelming and suddenly, he felt shy being introduced to a group of people that could do this to him. He felt like he shouldn’t belong. He didn’t deserve the attention he was being given. He was lucky.

The pair walked up the stairs to the main sitting area of the science building where students were chatting and laughing together. There were an assortment of couches and tables for people to work at as well as hidden cubbies meant to use for the more intense study sessions. It was pretty easy to find the group that they were looking for. They stuck out in the same way that they always did. Always holding the attention and never asking for it. Kuroo wasn’t even sure that they knew they  _ had  _ the attention. Each of them moved so effortlessly and comfortably as if they had never taken a misstep in their life. They never even knew what it was like to take a misstep.

Kuroo was too far in his head to realize he had approached them with Hinata and Sugawara to be fully prepared for the effect they had on him.

There was a quiet conversation in hushed tones, some frantic, some intense, and some were spiked with a tempered anger.

“Nobody told me it would be like this— it’s  _ never _ been like this, yet here we are!”

He recognized the voice immediately and was pulled from his daze. He glowered at Daishou from where he stood, unable to focus on the other boys who crowded around him with their heads tilted curiously and their shoulders tensed. Daishou glanced up and saw them approach and scoffed loudly, shoving himself back from the table and standing up.

“He isn’t one of us,” He hissed in Sugawara’s face as he stomped past him. He shot Kuroo a look that could kill and stormed out of the building.

Some of the boys at the table made a motion to follow after Daishou, but Sugawara raised his hand and they stopped. Kuroo was impressed with his poise, his expression still soft and kind. He offered a reassuring nod towards Kuroo and a half smile.

“It’s okay. We won’t bite.”

Somebody from the group snorted.

Kuroo turned his attention to the table and took in the group of Jans one by one. The one from the Mess who was walking alongside Sugawara was there, his arms folded across his chest with an intense glint in his eye. He seemed as if he was the leader of the pack, but based on the interaction Sugawara just had, Kuroo wasn’t too sure who was in charge. But still, he shied away from their curious gazes and raised brows. Some smiled. Some didn’t.

“Guys, this is Kuroo! He’s our new friend.” Hinata asserted, placing his hands on his hips and puffing his chest out as if the action somehow made his declaration more indisputable. Kuroo wondered if Hinata was the leader after all. Nobody seemed offended by his announcement. If anything, the smiles on the faces of some of the boys widened.

“And Daishou’s new worst nightmare.” The voice was low and soft, yet the words felt like a blow to the stomach and made his throat close up a little. There was a heat building behind his eyes. The statement stung. It wasn’t a threat, but it felt like one. It was spoken in fact.

“Tsukki, you’re being dramatic.” Another boy retorted with a wave of his hand, his voice deep and defined. “Ignore him, he likes to focus on the negatives. Hi, I’m Daichi.”

Daichi nodded his head in greeting— the same boy from the Mess. The tall skinny blond-haired boy sitting at the table sighed heavily and stood up, rubbing his eyes from under his glasses. “I’m not looking for a new friend. I’m going to find Daishou.” A statement directly going against Sugawara’s warning. He walked past the silver-haired boy, not looking at him, but knowing that Suga’s expression had darkened slightly.

Nobody else tried to stop the boy named Tsukishima and nobody followed after him. Everybody watched Sugawara expectantly and when he did not react, everyone’s attention returned to Kuroo.

“Dude, you’re  _ so  _ tall,” A shorter boy, around Hinata’s height exclaimed. His eyes were wide and round, brimming with eagerness as he gazed up at Kuroo with his mouth slightly agape. “Do you think you could throw me around?”

“Are you coming onto me?” Kuroo blurted out loud.

Somebody else snorted.

“ _ Nishinoya. _ ” Another tall boy with long brown hair wrapped loosely in a bun at the back of his head with a few pieces falling lightly around his face. He seemed larger than the others, stronger, and his eyes were the gentlest of the bunch. His voice was clear and bright, despite the warning tone. “You  _ cannot _ just ask people to throw you around.”

Nishinoya huffed and rolled his eyes at the boy, “I wouldn’t have to ask if you would just  _ agree  _ to it, Asahi.”

Hinata was suddenly at Asahi’s side, gripping his arm, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Wait, if you’re throwing Noya around later, can you also throw me?”

“I bet he can throw me  _ way  _ farther.”

“I’m not throwing  _ anybody _ .” 

Kuroo didn’t even know how to respond, he just looked from Daichi to Sugawara, lips pressed in a hard line as he tried to take it all in. Separated, the intoxicated feeling was much more potent than when all the Jans were together. Sugawara’s eyes were twinkling with laughter while Daichi himself was biting back his own smile.

“Kuroo?”

Kuroo turned to find Bokuto and Akaashi standing in the doorway of the exit of the science building. Bokuto was grabbing onto Akaashi’s hand trying to drag him along, but Akaashi stood his ground, tugging back as if Bokuto were an excited puppy tied up in his leash.

“Hey, we’re going to Carr Hall for our next class. Do you want to walk with us?” He called, waving his free hand.

Kuroo glanced back at the group of Jans he had just met and then back to Bokuto and Akaashi. The gathering of new friends watched him, all smiling and enthusiastic. There was a connection between them all, something buried deep within them all, tying them all together into a carefully crafted net. Behind each of their glimmering eyes were countless secrets that each of them new and a set of lips that were determined not to share. Each member of the gathering held himself with elegance and grace. Each member of the gathering conveyed nothing but welcomeness with the smallest hint of dangerous wonder. Looking into their eyes was the same as looking into Daishou’s. There was pride and strength and it took Kuroo all of a few moments to realize, unsolicited fear. As much as he feared all of them, they feared him too. And he did not quite know what that meant.

Then he found himself glancing to Sugawara for what he thinks he should do next. Sugawara smiled.

“We’ll catch you later, Kuroo,” he said, with a small bow of his head.

Kuroo frowned.

“I’ll find you,” Hinata promised, suddenly beside him, gripping his forearm gingerly. His fingers soft and light against his skin. A chill shivered across his spine and he withdrew his arm from the smaller boy. He didn’t seem to care that he had taken his arm away. Still Hinata grinned.

Still his eyes sparkled.

Still he wished with every fiber of his tiny being that Kuroo would be his friend. 

And it is odd to admit it, but as Kuroo walked away, back towards Akaashi and Bokuto, he thought:

There was something very human about the way Hinata acted.

And he couldn’t say the same about the others.

—Whatever that means.

  
  
  
  



	4. To be human...

Humanity wasn’t something Kuroo thought about often— the pieces of the puzzle that made up human existence. 

The concept of humanity was far too abstract and great for Kuroo to truly sit holed up in his dorm room wracking his brain for the meaning and function of it. Instead, it was like a whisper in the back of his mind, faint and fleeting, causing him to hesitate. It was never anything grand or exceptional. Always there one moment and gone in the next. He wished he knew when the seed of curiosity had been planted in the soil of mind, but he was now only vaguely aware of its roots being born and the beginnings of a sprout. He found he knew those moments best when he was with his friends. That’s when it was most clear to him what humanity meant to him.

One moment it was him and Kenma in Kenma’s dorm room. The smaller blond boy’s space was nothing like Kuroo’s. There were clothes littering the floor and a pile of empty water bottles stacked strategically in one corner of the room. The lamps that decorated the place were a gamble whether or not they actually turned on or if all of the bulbs lit up on the first go. His books were stacked haphazardly on a desk and his backpack slung lazily over the shoulders of a chair and it was certainly unclear if either had been opened in the past few days. But those weren’t the bits that mattered. It was Kenma’s small twin bed that Kuroo lounged in, his long legs stretched out filling it up and his feet peeking over the edge, with Kenma sitting on the floor directly underneath him. His game controller was tucked into his lap and his eyebrows pulled down, a hint of his tongue peeking out past his lips, as his face was twisted with determination. Kuroo played the game alongside him, the controller in his hands, while he tried not to think about the last time Kenma washed his sheets. Fortunately, Kenma knew better and had placed an oversized plush blanket in a rich vibrant red color as a separator between his actual bedding and Kuroo’s comfortable form.

“You’re not even trying to win,” Kenma muttered in his careful and quiet tone.

Kuroo’s lips pulled back into a scowl and he huffed audibly, “I am too, Kenma.”

There was a soft chuckle coming from the floor as Kuroo intentionally jammed his thumbs into the buttons as if the harder he smashed against the controller the better his character would fight. Despite his best efforts, Kuroo lost the next round and tossed his head back in defeat, knocking it dramatically against the bed frame with a loud and sharp crack. Kuroo crumpled in on himself and wheezed, groaning while tangling his fingers in his wild black hair. He curled into Kenma’s bed, burying his face in the pillow as he waited for the dull ache in his head to dissipate. At this point, Kenma had stood up to check on his friend and the smallest bit of laughter bubbled past his lips. Kuroo peeked from under the pillow, grimace still on his face, and caught Kenma covering his mouth and laughing into his hands.

“You’re an idiot,” Kenma snorted.

Kuroo laughed alongside him, swinging his long legs out in an attempt to give his friend a playful kick, but Kenma dodged him easily. The pair spent the rest of the evening holed up in Kenma’s room, playing video games, and laughing about how indescribably stupid Kuroo was. Kuroo didn’t mind. At one point Kuroo mentioned how hungry he was and Kenma stared him dead in the eyes and asked what he expected him to do about it. Then Kuroo spent the next hour and a half digging around Kenma’s room until he found a half eaten granola bar from a day or two ago because neither party was open to searching for something edible beyond the bounds of the dorm room. Kenma called him disgusting and then eventually collapsed on the floor beside Kuroo, groaning that he was hungry also.

The feeling was warm. This was what humanity had to offer.

One moment was him tucked away into one of the most hidden study rooms on the campus. It was a larger room, but with less surface area to load up with textbooks and notebooks. Shoved into one corner of the room were two comfy chairs as opposed to the sterile-feeling classroom chairs. Kuroo had staked his claim of the table space, his things spread out evenly and chaotically with his laptop so far away from the power outlets that he had to climb over the charging cord to get to the other side of the room. Kuroo’s elbows were pressed into the cool wood, both of his hands anxiously running through his already haphazard hair, making the ends stick up in weird and unpredictable ways, as he stared at his assignment and wondered what the next step was. The room was quiet, for the most part, otherwise Kuroo would have placed his headphones over his ears. When he eventually decided that his calculations from his organic chemistry class were no longer worth looking at, he rubbed his eyes and snapped his laptop shut, hoping to earn some distraction from his friends.

Bokuto had moved the two comfy chairs together to build a makeshift bed, angling himself and tucking his long legs so far against his body that he looked unbearably uncomfortable in the two chairs. It didn’t seem to matter to him, he was curled up with a notebook held snugly against his chest, and his eyes were closed. He was snoring softly. Beside him, Akaashi sat in one of the colder chairs with his legs spread out before him, however not at the table with Kuroo. He was directly beside Bokuto, small frown on his lips as his face was contorted with concentration, reading a thick book from one of his literature classes while idly playing with the ends of Bokuto’s hair. Kuroo smirked. He wondered if Akaashi even knew he was doing it.

Kuroo cleared his throat. Akaashi glanced up quickly to look at Kuroo and then immediately returned to his book, clearly not finding any need to break the silence the room had created. The same soft kind of silence that came alongside being in a safe space with the people one was most comfortable with. These were the people Kuroo had chosen and they had all chosen him as well. He only wished that his friends would choose each other sooner rather than later.

“Akaashi,” Kuroo hummed, quietly, tiptoeing around breaking the peacefulness of the space and to keep Bokuto sleeping comfortably. “What are you doing?”

Akaashi looked at him again, brows furrowing slightly, confused, “I’m studying, Kuroo.” It was a plain statement and he went back to his reading. Kuroo had to stifle a chuckle. Akaashi’s hand continued to idly play with the ends of Bokuto's hair without pause or hesitation and soon the pieces were being gently combed through by his thin and careful fingers. 

“What are you doing?”

Kuroo smiled and pulled his gaze, not wanting to stare for too long. It wasn’t his to stare at. 

“I’m studying too,” he answered. “Do you think Bokuto is comfortable like that?”

Akaashi’s hand stopped moving and he moved his book away to peer at his sleeping friend. Then Akaashi glanced back up to Kuroo, the tops of his cheeks turning a light pink color. Akaashi moved his hand away and brushed some of his own hair out of his face, biting back the knowing smile that was beginning to break out on Kuroo’s face first. 

“M’super comfy, Kuroo,” Bokuto slurred from his supposedly sleeping position. He wiggled in his chair and spent too long trying to roll over to find a better position, tossing his notebook to the floor. He scooted his chairs closer to Akaashi’s, almost tumbling out of his makeshift bed, yawned loudly, and immediately started to make soft sleep noises again. Throughout his shifting, he mumbled the quietest, softest, littlest request, “Can you play with my hair again?”

Akaashi hummed in agreement and let his hand fall comfortably back into Bokuto’s hair.

The feeling was warm. That was what humanity had to offer.

One moment it was him and Bokuto, desperately smacking their hands against the medium sized flatscreen television inside Bokuto’s living room and jiggling the various plug ports to aid in connecting to the internet. It didn’t matter how many times they unscrewed the cable cord and screwed it back it, it didn’t matter how many times they unplugged the power cord and plugged it back it, it didn’t matter how many times Bokuto gripped the edges of the TV and gave it a firm shake the wifi was just not connecting. After about the fourth go around, Bokuto threw his hands up in defeat and toppled onto the floor, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“It’s no use, Kuroo,” he cried. “We aren’t going to be able to connect to the internet in time to catch the premiere.”

Kuroo shook the TV again before looking sadly at his friend, “Who else do we know who could let us watch the show in their room?”

Bokuto made some horrible noise that was a mix between a groan and an outcry, “Kenma, but he will refuse to let us.”

Kuroo furrowed his brows and tapped his chin thoughtfully with his fingers, knowing he had to act quickly if he wanted to get Bokuto and himself before the TV so that they could watch the season opening of Love Island UK. If Bokuto misses it, Kuroo knows how disappointed he will be. It would take at least an entire week for it to be uploaded onto another streaming service, so the only option was to watch it live. Kuroo knows how bad it would be if he had to go an entire week with Bokuto avoiding spoilers as well as coping with his loss. It would likely involve tears. And a combination of Akaashi, Kuroo, and Kenma all sleeping in Bokuto’s room with him because god-forbid he sleeps alone. Nothing bad would happen, Bokuto would just bother them relentlessly until somebody slept over. He called it something like a ‘sad boy sleepover’. 

“Yeah, Kenma isn’t super into the show.” Kuroo frowned. “What about Akaashi?”

“No, he’s got a quiz tomorrow and doesn’t want to hang out. He said something about needing to read 400 pages by the end of the night.”

Bokuto stared up at the ceiling, lying prone on the floor. His expression was already changing into something very disappointed and hard to look at. So Kuroo didn’t. He urgently whipped out his phone to scroll through his contacts. There had to be  _ someone _ at this school who would let them crash their dorm room.

“I’m gonna miss the season premiere.”

“Shut up, Bokuto, no you’re not.”

“I’m gonna miss the season premiere,” he repeated, this time with a hint more anguish.

Kuroo sent a few texts to friends from different classes, all of which politely declined with the excuse of studying or needing their rooms for other things. Kuroo knew that some of it had to do with housing Bokuto during Love Island UK. He was a very passionate guy who was deeply involved in every cast member even if he met them on the show half a second ago. He got riled up quickly and there have been instances in the past in which pencils have been snapped. And mugs have been broken. Typically, Bokuto’s dorm room was the safest. His roommates knew what to expect when Love Island UK rolled around and Kuroo was confident in his ability to handle Bokuto at any of his worsts and his bests, but he couldn’t expect the same from strangers.

Then he read the name:  _ Shoyo Hinata _ .

He could call Hinata. It’s a miracle Hinata had insisted so strongly that he get his phone number so they could hang out outside of the biology lab. He promptly dialed his phone number. He was quick to answer.

“Kuroo?”

“Hey, Hinata!” Kuroo grinned, hopeful.

There was some shuffling around, some loud voices in the background as well as some resounding cackles that Kuroo had learned to label as Nishinoya’s. “Guys, can you please be quiet for like five minutes? Hey, hold on, Kuroo—” a loud slam of a door and suddenly quiet. “Okay, sorry about that, what’s going on?”

“Listen, this might be a lot to ask, but it’s pretty urgent. Bokuto and I are trying to watch the season premiere of Love Island and our TV isn’t working and we really need a space to watch it. Do you have a TV we could use for like an hour?” Bokuto looked over from his position on the floor and his wide and eager topaz-colored eyes twinkled with potential excitement. Kuroo knew that if this fell through, it would be game over.

“A TV? Do you need, like, a living room also?”

“Yeah, I think our floor’s wifi isn’t working like it’s supposed to. Don’t feel obligated to say yes, if you have people over that’s not an issue.” Bokuto’s eyes narrowed in on Kuroo and he felt his soul start to creep out of his body. 

“Yeah, hold on, let me ask the guys. I’m over at Asahi’s apartment on campus and his living room isn’t very large, but I think they’re watching a show they’ve seen before.” A door opened and the room was loud again, this time with bickering and more outrageous cackles. “Hey, Asahi, can Kuroo and his friend come over to watch a show? Their TV isn’t working—” Asahi’s voice grumbled indistinctly.

Bokuto was slowly sitting up, but his intense eyes did not bring Kuroo any relief at all.

“Yeah, it’s Bokuto. Yeah, the one in your studio art class. Yeah. He has, like, the white and black hair, I’m pretty sure. Yeah, the tall one—” 

Noya’s loud voice was howling. Kuroo could make out only a handful of words, but he definitely heard Asahi’s sharp, “ _ You are not sleeping here if you ask him to throw you. _ ”

“Kuroo? Hey, sorry about that. You guys can definitely come over! I’ll text you which dorm we’re in.”

Once his phone was tucked away into his back pocket, Bokuto was standing, eyes wide and hopeful. Kuroo nodded and grinned. Bokuto was suddenly kicked into overdrive, glancing at his watch, and scrambling to drag Kuroo out of the dorm room and over to Asahi’s apartment.

“Let’s go, we have ten minutes to get to his place and make sure we’re all set up!”

Bokuto dragged Kuroo by the hand outside and across the campus. Bokuto’s eyes were ablaze with giddiness and he kept looking over his shoulder to make sure Kuroo was keeping up with him and not stumbling around to maintain his balance. The looks he kept receiving from Bokuto were filled with love and affection, a softness in his expression that only existed because of the friendship they shared. As well as a hardness bent with determination to make it to the apartment in time. Bokuto didn’t look at anybody else outside of their friend group that same way. It was personal and it was warm. All of this because Kuroo was a problem solver and also really wanted to watch the season premiere of Love Island.

The feeling was warm. This is what humanity had to offer.

One moment it was him and Hinata sitting at a small table in the Mess. Hinata was in the middle of a rant, his large amber eyes narrowed with anger, and glimmering with a silent fury as he recounted the events of history class. A great debate had occurred and his professor had cut him off in the middle of his argument, gently letting him know that this was no place for anger, which only ignited Hinata further. He was small, compact, and filled to the brim with energy that when set ablaze, depending on the function of the fuse being lit, the explosion was either filled with warmth or resulted in a forest fire. In this case, it seemed like a forest fire. But, still, Kuroo couldn’t help the small chuckles that bubbled past his mouth every single time Hinata threw his arms up in the air wildly and slammed his fist down on the table that rattled their silverware. His brows were furrowed and his mouth pulled into a scowl, and still there was only joy in Kuroo’s heart.

“Are you laughing at me?” He retorted, offended by Kuroo’s reactions.

Kuroo shrugged and tried to cover his smirk but taking a slow and long sip of his coffee. The expression on Hinata’s face was somehow even funnier than when he was talking. His mouth was agape, clearly  _ terribly  _ offended, and his shoulders were slumped over dramatically, leaning over his plate of food as if he would dangerously collapse into it all if Kuroo did not answer the question carefully.

“You’re a history major, right?” Kuroo asked. 

Hinata made a whining noise, “What does that have to do with anything? I was telling you a story. Yes, I am.” He huffed, annoyed.

Kuroo couldn’t help the giggles forming in his belly. They started to spill out.

“Then why the fuck are you in my biology class?”

The look Hinata made was  _ priceless _ . It was a shame Kuroo had just taken another sip of his coffee. 

Kuroo spit his coffee all over Hinata as he laughed loudly, tossing his head back with earnest joy, earning a small shriek from his friend as he shielded his face from the droplets. Hinata was horrified at first, eyes wide and unmoving, but eventually he came too, noticing the dampness on his shirt and hair. Almost immediately, Hinata grabbed hold of his own glass of water as Kuroo wheezed with laughter and filled his mouth with it. He did not take another second to reconsider as he decided to spit his water back at the unexpecting Kuroo. Kuroo squealed, startled, and shoved himself back from the table, so far back his chair lifted up onto two legs that put Kuroo in a dangerous position, but fortunately he fell forward back into the table. It was Hinata’s turn to howl with laughter, his voice clear and bright, as both of their laughing filled the space around them.

Sugawara joined the pair later in the meal, interrupting their fits of laughter and spitting water and coffee onto one another, but that was not the moment.

The feeling was warm. This was what humanity had to offer.

***

After Kuroo’s first interaction with Daishou in the biology lab, life began to stop swirling around him uncontrollably. The fluctuating feelings of terror and anger or bliss and intoxication became more accustomed to him, no longer catching him by surprise. He couldn’t say he understood the function of the emotions as they piled up around him and sometimes overwhelmed him completely, but they were beginning to become a part of him. When it happened, he let it happen and did not fight it anymore. Exposure to it would be the only thing that helped him understand why.

School still played out like school was supposed to. Classes still ran like classes were supposed to. Kuroo was disappointed to find that later in the week during his chemistry class, Daishou sat in the farthest corner of the auditorium classroom. It was clear Daishou knew he was in the room, his hungry and searching eyes were the first he found when he entered the auditorium for the first time, but this time he didn’t have Sugawara or Hinata to coax him into joining him. To say Kuroo hurt was an understatement, wishing that Daishou wouldn’t hate him so much for no reason, but he didn’t give the green-haired boy the satisfaction of giving him a second glance. Even though he  _ really _ wanted to. He wasn’t sure what was harder, being under the intentional and menacing glare of somebody who looks like they’d rather see you dead than alive, or trying to not glance up and over to check and see if he is even looking at all. Either way, Kuroo experienced great discomfort during the chemistry lecture.

His other classes were more pleasant, especially the ones he had with friends. He and Kenma had a calculus class together, which would have been extremely exceptional had Tsukishima not decided to sit directly next to Kenma. It wasn’t a big deal, but it wasn’t a small deal either. It turns out Tsukishima and Kenma had biology together, so when he saw him sitting by himself in the calculus class, Tsukishima decided to sit beside Kenma. Kuroo was floored when he had to take the seat on the other side of him. Tsukishima didn’t look at him once, his annoyance plain on his face. He and Kenma shared a few words at the start of class and Kuroo tried to be polite and wave, but Tsukishima kept his head down and his hands busy with his notebook and pen. It was uncomfortable, but it was not the same feeling as when he was forced to sit beside Daishou. Maybe Tsukishima didn’t hate him as much as he thought. Or maybe he did. Kuroo found it pretty difficult reading any of Tsukishima’s expressions.

And life went on like it was supposed to.

He hung out with his best friends, spending time with them in dining halls or in their dorm rooms, lounging out on the campus green whenever the weather was warmer than normal. He saw his new friends around too, catching them in hallways and being pulled into a generous conversation. He had thought he had met the entire friend group that emerged from Jans, but apparently he had been wrong. He met another while wandering around the library one evening, he was grinding out a lab report with his lab mates, excluding Daishou, naturally, who refused to participate in anything that involved the group in its entirety— which, in other words, meant Daishou refused to work with Kuroo. Sugawara sat at a large wooden table with Kuroo and Hinata, their materials spread out around them and they pulled information together to piece a report into something reasonable. 

It was quiet in the library, only the clacking of keys on keyboards and the soft scratch of pencils onto notebooks, but it was shortly obliterated when there was a loud hooting and screeching coming from one end of the library floor. All the students whirled around in their seats to shoot a look of pure hatred at whoever interrupted their studying, including Kuroo’s table of lab mates.

“Oh,  _ shit _ .” Sugawara immediately stood up and marched over to where the hooting and hollering came from. Hinata snorted quietly and tried to keep his eyes away, knowing what was going to come.

Kuroo tried to follow his lead, but his curiosity got the best of him and he watched Sugawara stomp over to the two boys, one he recognized as Nishinoya, and the other he had never seen before. Sugawara’s soft and gentle face was pinched with annoyance as he raised his hands and smacked both boys behind the head. Hinata snorted again and tried to stifle it by shuffling his biology textbook around. Sugawara leaned close to them both and muttered words to them that made both boys flush and hang their heads in shame.

“That’s Nishinoya and Tanaka. I don’t think you’ve met Tanaka yet, but he’s like Nishinoya, except maybe a little bit louder,” Hinata explained, quietly.

Kuroo watched the boy with his buzzcut and his cool expression temper into something more shameful and honest as Sugawara shook his head disapprovingly and stomped back to his table. Kuroo wanted to say something, but Hinata shook his head. It was better to let Sugawara deal with things his way and to let it be once it was done. Kuroo smirked. He couldn’t help himself.

“I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be louder than Noya.”

Sugawara glanced up at him, his face returned to its kind and inviting expression, his cool brown eyes sparkling. Kuroo almost wanted to look away. Sugawara smiled, softly, and shrugged.

“You’d be surprised by a lot of the things we are.”

Hinata didn’t laugh. If anything, his shoulders tensed slightly, but quickly eased back into comfort. Kuroo didn’t understand, but he didn’t question him. He did what Hinata warned. He let it be once it was done. The table continued on to finish their lab assignments.

Everything was as it was supposed to be at Forks University.

He really, truly felt connected to this new life for himself.

And there were many moments. 

The feeling was warm. That was what humanity had to offer.

Humanity wasn’t something Kuroo thought about often. There were too many pieces of the puzzle that made up the human existence for Kuroo to be able to focus his mind long enough to wonder about its greatness. He just felt fortunate enough to be able to label those moments when they occurred. And each and every single one of them involved his friends.

And going into the weekend, he wondered what it would take to rattle his thin understanding of what humanity was.

And going into the weekend, he wondered how disruptive something needed to be to completely shatter his thin understanding of what humanity was.

And going into the weekend, as he made the plans to go out with his friends, he did not know that the events of the following evening would come pretty close.


	5. ...is to be completely breakable

Kuroo’s fingers tightened around the cool ceramic of the bathroom sink, so tight, that he wondered if it could shatter beneath his fingertips. He squeezed so hard, partly to steady himself as he swayed uneasily in the tiny and cramped bathroom, and partly to see if he  _ could _ break the sink, shattering it into a million tiny dusty pieces to prove just how invincible he actually was tonight.

Invincible.

He was absolutely untouchable.

He stared at himself in the tiny mirror, parts of it shattered along the edges and other parts so smudged that someone who was too tall would have to duck their head a little bit lower to see their reflection. It was a disappointment to most, because the power that can be generated by somebody at a bar staring at themselves in the bathroom mirror is unmatchable by anything else. But to Kuroo, as he hunched a little bit lower to find his own soft hazel-brown eyes staring back at him, this was all he needed. He waited for his vision to slow down as the world around him shifted and swirled for a second too long. His hair was tousled, pieces of it he had intentionally styled fell away, and others laid flat against his forehead that was now sticky to the touch with sweat and other foreign substances one would find at a college bar. And still he grinned, because truthfully, his appearance didn’t mean a single thing to him right now— which is not totally true because he still took a second to gussy himself— it was everything else that made him feel completely and irrevocably invincible.

He couldn’t remember what parts of the night assisted in getting him to lean over the bathroom sink and steady his breathing before returning to the lively bar where the music was loud and the people blurred together. His memories were already floating together, slurring into something uneven and splattered with various colors. He tried to think back, to retrace his steps throughout the evening, and found only distant and far away memories, blurred at the edges with only the flavor of strawberry vodka on his tongue and the stinging burning sensation at the back of his throat as he downed drink after drink and its warm contents settled comfortably in his stomach.

He couldn’t remember the exact steps that he took to end up in this position, his head dipped low and his shoulders hunched over, gazing into his reflection with hard and determined eyes as if his other self who stared back at him held all the answers to his questions. But he did not need to remember, because in this moment, as his hazel eyes glistened and twinkled with the untouchable bliss that came from the fuzzy floating feeling in his head. And all of the small pieces of him that buckled and ached with a sullen and longstanding fear vanished. There was nothing within him that held fear anymore. 

Dark and daunting eyes did not scare him. The threat of flashing and violently barred teeth were a forgotten memory. The sadness that crept into his chest as he tried to ignore the blatant avoidance of the green-haired boy and his serious and searching eyes that found everything except Kuroo’s curious and wanting eyes had frozen over. The chill that never left his bones since meeting his friends with their perfect skin and alluring eyes had been warmed by sweet and sour liquids as it spread throughout his entire body from the top of his head all the way down to the ends of his toes. The frozen and icy abyss melted away and all that was left was the pool of confidence that Kuroo now bathed in.

Nobody could hurt him. Nothing could touch him. He was at the peak of his prowess, and as he finally broke his staring contest he had created with his reflection and stumbled away, grabbing onto the door to steady himself and he tumbled out of the bar bathroom and into the noise of the rest of the world, he wondered mindlessly to himself how accurate any of this experience truly was.

—Not that it mattered at all.

But the battleground that was the inside of a college town bar was another feat in itself and Kuroo was only as strong as his legs could carry him without falling into a group of tough looking guys who wanted nothing to do with another man.

The name of the bar didn’t matter, Kuroo couldn’t remember which one he had wandered into with his friends earlier in the evening, they all functioned the same by the end of the night— just a place with a bunch of people and a bartender who passed plastic cups of piss-flavored beer into unsuspecting young adults and charged three dollars for it. The sea of patrons was larger than most crowds out on a Saturday night, bodies pressed against bodies as they moved in unison to the beat of the loud music blaring. Kuroo had to squint his eyes as he peered into the mass of bodies in the darkness, only flashing lights providing enough light to get a half moment glimpse of the faces the bodies belonged to. 

He was searching for his friends, trying to piece together in his mind, what his friends Bokuto and Akaashi were wearing when he had drunkenly slapped their arms and warned them that he was going to the bathroom. They had shouted something to him, perhaps a plea of caution or an attempt of refusal to keep Kuroo close, knowing that his ability to function as a human was visibly disintegrating before them as he swayed with the movement of the universe, but either way, Kuroo had slipped away. Now Bokuto and Akaashi were nowhere to be seen and Kuroo was alone in the dark and with each step, struggling more and more to stay upright as the images around him swirled and twisted into shapes that did not exist to the sober mind.

But Kuroo was invincible. Kuroo was untouchable. And therefore, Kuroo was unstoppable. He had to navigate the sea of bodies and find his friends—there was no way they left without him. He laughed loudly, to himself, at the thought of Bokuto wanting to sneak away with Akaashi, finding the perfect time to spend a few moments in special silence with him, but Akaashi too anxious to step out of the bar without finding Kuroo and ensuring his safety. Bokuto would have tried a lot of things to get Akaashi away and Kuroo wondered if Bokuto was silently cursing Kuroo for wandering so far away and ruining his chance to be  _ actually _ alone with Akaashi. Or not at all and both boys were long gone and faraway, distracted by each other’s eyes and Kuroo was alone. Kuroo tried not to think about that one too much.

Kuroo’s mouth was set in a permanent smirk and his lids felt heavy on his eyes as he wandered, pushing through the bodies to find a place where the crowd was more dispersed and the lights were a bit brighter, a place where he could stop and think. Despite his indestructible mindset, thinking was much more difficult when everything slurred together and colors were too bright and didn’t look like colors anymore and his body wiggled and stumbled in unpredictable ways.

“Kuroo?”

The dark-haired boy whirled around, nearly falling, but being held in place by a strong and steady hand on his shoulder. He immediately leaned into the touch, his head lulling towards the owner of the voice, his smirk getting wider and wider as he nearly fell into the person’s arms.

“Christ, you’re drunk. Where are your friends?” The voice belonged to the tall, blond boy with glasses. Tsukishima. He kept Kuroo a safe distance away, holding him firmly in place with one hand while the other was raised and ready lest Kuroo’s body completely sag forward and fall over. His brows were furrowed, concern plain on his face— something Kuroo never expected from Tsukishima especially since he intentionally avoided his gaze around campus. “Are you alone? Is Kenma here with you?”

Kuroo snorted, “Do you think Kenma would ever in his little tiny boy life ever come to a place like this?”

Tsukishima hesitated, as if he was not sure how to respond, then he withdrew his hands and pushed his glasses up farther on his nose. Kuroo bristled at how nonchalant and overwhelmingly cool he made adjusting his glasses look. These stupid fucking Jans… So annoying.

“Right,” Tsukishima said. “Do you need help finding your friends? You hang out with that big guy named Bokuto, right? Where is he?”

Kuroo shrugged, stumbling closer to Tsukishima who carefully stepped out of the way and grabbed at his arm again to keep him from hitting the floor. Kuroo apologized, softly, under his breath, then looked at the blond boy again, ignoring his question and remembering how invincible he was. “Wait, so can you explain to me why you hate me so bad?”

Tsukishima sighed, “Do you even know where you are?”

“I’ll buy you a beer if you tell me what I did. Is it because of Daishou? Because, listen, I didn’t do anything to him, he was the one who—”

“Hey, Hinata, can you come over here?” Tsukishima called, his expression bored. He didn’t call very loudly, his voice was still soft-spoken even in the bar setting. It surprised Kuroo that Hinata was able to hear him from within the crowd as Kuroo was directly beside him and did not even catch his words clearly. 

The small boy with the headful of orange hair emerged from the crowd, his face damp with perspiration, some pieces of his normally wild and thick locks flattened down and wet with sweat just as Kuroo’s hair was. His amber eyes were wide and excited, and when they found Kuroo, they brightened even more. A large grin broke out on Hinata’s face as he hurried over. Naturally, without the wonder of alcohol in Kuroo’s system, he would have felt an intense burn of warmth in his chest towards the shorter boy, but instead, Kuroo felt nothing at all except the ache of his cheeks when he smiled so hard. This wasn’t better, but further proved how truly impressive he was right now. Nothing could hurt him at all.

Kuroo pulled away from Tsukishima and tumbled over to Hinata, giggling as he curled himself around Hinata, nearly falling over to lean over to hug him. Hinata exclaimed in surprise, eyes widening even further as he lightly hugged Kuroo back, eventually laughing alongside his friend and patting his back gingerly, more or less holding him up.

“Hi, Kuroo! I wasn’t expecting to see you here, but I’m glad you were able to make it out tonight. Are you okay though? What’s going on, Tsukki?” Hinata asked, still patting Kuroo’s back as the tall lanky boy didn’t seem to want to let go. It was as if he missed the warmth that Hinata normally provided.

Tsukishima shrugged, eyes alight with bemusement as Kuroo clung to the small boy, “I think he needs to go home. I’m not dealing with it.”

Kuroo pulled away to turn around and point an accusing finger at the blond boy, “I strongly disagree, I think  _ you  _ need to go home.”

Hinata snorted, impressed with his boldness, “Wow, you really are drunk, Kuroo.”

“Are you not?”

Hinata laughed, even Tsukishima’s lips curled slightly at the ends, “Very.” He patted Kuroo’s back gently and nodded towards Tsukishima, “You don’t have to linger over here, you know. I can make sure Kuroo finds his friends so they can take him home. He’s safe with me.”

Tsukishima’s eyes found Kuroo and held them for one beat. Two beats. Kuroo never noticed his eyes were a honey-colored golden brown. Tsukishima’s jaw clenched and he looked back to Hinata and his lips were pulled back into its familiar frown. Hinata stared at Tsukishima, his expression soft, yet his eyes had hardened and challenged the taller blond boy, as if he were asking him a thousand silent questions, and Tsukishima answered them with a grunt.

“I’ll stay.”

Hinata seemed pleased as he turned to face Kuroo, pushing him away so that he wasn’t leaning heavily on him anymore. Kuroo stood more upright but it wasn’t reassuring Hinata in the slightest as he wobbled around and his eyes seemed to float around the room without any intention or direction. Part of Kuroo couldn’t control the spaciness of his attention, but another part was searching the crowd. In the melting glacier of his mind, he connected pieces together in his mind— if Tsukishima and Hinata were here, where were the rest of their interesting collection of Jans? Did this mean Sugawara was gracefully dancing across the bar floor with a cup of some sweet scented drink and a drunk flush to his pale and soft cheeks? Did this mean Nishinoya was pounding a table with his fist after swallowing a shot of cheap vodka as it burned the entire way down while Tanaka threw his arms up in defeat because shot for shot wasn’t going in his favor? Did this mean Daishou lurked in the shadows, away from the group, on his own, sipping some dark oak flavored whiskey and wondering where Kuroo was?

Kuroo became very aware of his previous encounter with Daishou while out.

He wondered if Daishou knew he was here too. 

He wondered if Daishou ever thought about him too.

“Hello, Kuroo?” 

Kuroo blinked a few times to focus on Hinata’s face, his head tilted to the side curiously.

“I asked you a question. Are you sure you don’t want me to take you home?”

Kuroo shook his head and laughed, probably too loudly, “No, I promise, I’m fine, I’ll get some water from the bar in a second.”

Hinata smiled and Kuroo smiled, knowing that Hinata was more reassured than he was a second ago. He leaned forward, wobbled, and smushed his hand into Hinata’s hair, surprising him, and gave his hair a nice and solid tousle. Hinata swatted his drunk hands away and Kuroo leaned again, this time Tsukishima stepping in and gently grabbing his elbow lightly to keep him from falling onto Hinata again.

“Should I go grab Suga?” Tsukishima asked, quietly.

“Suga is here?” Kuroo asked, excited. He was right! Another point for his invincibility tonight! That means the others had to be here too.

Hinata nodded, grinning, and pointed into the crowd, “Yeah, I think everyone is that direction. We kind of split off with one another. I was over there with Noya and Tanaka before Tsukki called me.”

Kuroo looked hard, trying to make our distinct faces in the crowd of drunk young adults dancing and moving against one another to the sound of the loud music filling his ears. Once he saw them, it was easy to find the rest of them. They were doing the thing again and holding the attention of everybody, particularly Kuroo’s, and despite being in a vast sea of bodies and sweat and darkness, each and every single member of the mysterious Jan group stuck out like a sore thumb and illuminated the space around them. It was as if each person stood center stage in a theater and the spotlight clung to them as if they were the only character that mattered.

The first to catch his eye was Asahi, half of his dark brown hair pulled back at a small bun at the back of his head while the rest of the pieces fell onto his shoulders. His regularly set jaw was relaxed and comfortable, softening his warm brown eyes even further, and his mouth was pulled into a small smile. It didn’t take long for Kuroo to understand why his expression was so gentle and warm. Nishinoya bustled past him followed by a wide-eyed and eager-looking Tanaka, two cups of a mysterious liquid in each of their hands, moving at a rapid rate past Asahi. Asahi called after the pair, and they whirled around, bustled back over, their teeth flashing with the widest of grins as they chatted with Asahi. Asahi was laughing, his eyes crinkling as his head was tossed back, and he reached out to take a cup from one of Nishinoya’s hands. Nishinoya’s hard eyes softened as he looked up at Asahi. Tanaka pointed to his open mouth, sticking his tongue out, imitating that he was throwing up and waved a dismissive hand in their direction. With his free hand, Nishinoya flipped Tanaka off, and leaned into Asahi who wrapped his arms securely around his waist so that he would not run away again. Nishinoya was always running away. 

It was a tender interaction. Asahi held Nishinoya close as Nishinoya sipped his drink and chattered on and on about something else. Kuroo could almost hear his loud voice as it cut across the room. Asahi didn’t seem to mind as he watched him speak, his eyes so full of fondness that it created an ache in Kuroo’s chest. Nishinoya just seemed so small compared to Asahi, his wild and loud aura of energy so soothed by Asahi’s cool expression and safe embrace. Then Nishinoya reached up, grabbed the edge of Asahi’s shirt to pull him lower to him, and kissed him on the mouth. Asahi’s cheeks flushed red, but the action was so natural, so common between the two, that love just seemed so much easier to understand this way. Kuroo looked away and found Hinata staring at him, smirking.

“I didn’t know they were together,” Kuroo said, softly, unsure of what he meant exactly by his own words.

“How could you not tell?” Tsukishima said, flatly. 

Kuroo shrugged, “I don’t know. I assumed, but like, why would I make any assumptions?”

“Yeah, Noya and Asahi have been together for a while now, I think. I don’t think I’ve ever known them not together,” Hinata hummed, thoughtful, his mind taking him somewhere far away, and for a moment, his face twisted into a grimace before his expression relaxed again, as if he were remembering something not so light and pleasant as the Asahi and Noya that were here today.

Kuroo frowned and looked quickly back in their direction, Nishinoya had moved away from Asahi but their fingers were now interlocked and Asahi was being dragged across the space with a silly smirk on his lips. Then, his chest seized a little bit, his great wall of invincibility trembling slightly at the thought that spilled passed his lips without filter, “Is anybody else seeing anyone?”

For some reason, that was his scariest thought of the entire night— the entire group of Jans were happily all dating one another. Perfect seeks out perfect. Another layer to the group of Jans that Kuroo did not quite understand but was unable to label what it was specifically that made him so unnerved and curious about them.

Hinata glanced at Tsukishima, so quickly that Kuroo wasn’t even sure he saw the exchange, and there was a moment of sadness that Kuroo felt beating against his untouchable sanction of drunken stupor. He wobbled. Hinata sighed, so quietly, while Tsukishima shifted his weight uncomfortably.

“There’s Suga,” Hinata admitted, the words being forced through his teeth as if he did not want to finish the sentence at all. “He’s seeing someone.”

Kuroo frowned and looked towards the sea of people again, easily finding Sugawara as his presence was the most alluring, it was as if Sugawara’s entire being  _ begged  _ to be looked at. His silver hair was full and shiny, not a bead of sweat stuck to his forehead like the rest of the crowd, and his eyes were rounded with kindness. He wasn’t dressed like the rest of the patrons at the bar with their fitted shirts and cropped blouses. He looked so simple and so soft, just a dark colored t-shirt to contrast his fair skin, and the faintest flush on the tops of his cheeks as he held onto his drink with both hands. It was clear he was full of joy, his mouth pulled into the warmest grin, whether it be from the night out with his friends, or the liquid in his cup, it didn’t matter. It made Kuroo want to run over and stand before him, to be swallowed whole in his presence, and try to absorb as much light as he could. So that he could be good. So that he could be better. He wanted to be so much better for Sugawara and he did not know why.

“Who?” Kuroo asked, but his question was answered immediately.

Hinata did not answer and Kuroo did not see Hinata and Tsukishima purposefully look away from the scene that unfolded at the other end of the bar. Daichi and his dark eyes and his dark hair curled around Sugawara’s waist and held him close, similar to the embrace shared by Asahi and Nishinoya, but somehow the interaction was different. Sugawara leaned into the touch, his eyes closed and his mouth pulling into a softer kind of smile, and Daichi moved in a way that seemed familiar and practiced with Sugawara. Sugawara’s head tilted to the side and allowed for Daichi to kiss his temple fondly. Then Sugawara moved another way and Daichi moved to catch up. It was not as practiced, but it was intentional. It was also love.

“Yeah, he’s seeing Daichi,” Tsukishima said after a while, voice even quieter than his normal tone. Kuroo glanced at him and Hinata and Tsukishima were busying themselves with a silent conversation.

“Anyway,” Hinata said, after a second. “I’m going to get you some water, Kuroo. If you’re staying here, I need you to at least drink one cup of water before the night gets any longer.”

Kuroo nodded, smirking as the silliness started to return and the warmth from watching his friends with their lovers faded. Hinata disappeared into the crowd to approach the bar, leaving Tsukishima and Kuroo to stand beside each other, far enough apart for Kuroo to want to lean in to talk to him and close enough for Tsukishima to be able to reach out and keep Kuroo from falling over.

Kuroo glanced at Tsukishima and then looked back into the crowd, then back to Tsukishima. When Kuroo was sure Tsukishima wasn’t going to say anything to him, his golden-honey brown eyes looking everywhere except at him, Kuroo puffed his chest and decided that he was not going to be babysat. He wanted to return to the crowd, to jump into the sea of people and see whose shore he ended up on. After all, he had found every member of the Jans circle except for one, and for some reason, he was the only one Kuroo really wanted to find tonight. Kuroo had started to walk when Tsukishima grabbed his arm, but not in an attempt to hold him upright. No, this grip was unwavering, this grip was tight and foreboding. Kuroo glanced at him quickly, breath catching in his throat, and Tsukishima stared at him with intense eyes.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Kuroo,” he said, seriously. “I know where you’re going. Don’t be stupid.”

Kuroo shrugged him off, face twisted with annoyance, “Fuck off, you don’t know me.”

He shouldered away from him, not glancing back, knowing that those same pretty eyes were glaring daggers into his back. He knew that if he glanced back, that his shield of invincibility would tremble and shatter, and he could not do that. He had to be untouchable. He had to stay like this because if he didn’t, he would be sure to lose himself to the anxieties of the week, and the fear that grew slowly in his bones, and his understanding of humanity would slip away and the small moments that made up its whole existence would chill and freeze over and he would never be able to access any of it again.

He was untouchable.

He was invincible.

He found himself another shot of ice cold vodka, no longer feeling its burning sensation as it was tossed down his throat, and he set his searching and curious eyes towards the crowd. No— that was too inaccurate— he set his searching and curious eyes towards the crowd to find the green-haired boy with flashing eyes and a snarl for a mouth.

***

It wasn’t difficult to find Daishou. It was easy when Kuroo stopped looking. 

He should have known that the way Daishou moved was comparable to a satellite around a planet, floating just far enough away that Kuroo would not see him when he looked, but close enough to move when Kuroo moved. Orbiting around him as if it was the only thing Daishou knew how to do right. Avoiding him at a safe distance as if the tall dark-haired boy would not eventually catch on and find his dark and serious eyes glowering in his direction from amongst the crowd. Between flashes of light and between beats of song, Kuroo found his venomous eyes and held them. He held them longer than any moment before, because this time Kuroo was ready for it. In fact, he was seeking it out. He was ready to be under his threatening gaze because tonight he was strong. He was unbreakable. Or so he felt.

Daishou was nowhere near the rest of the Jans, existing on his own away from the massive crowds, slinking in the darkest depths of the loud bar. If anyone came too close he moved out of the way unwilling to be touched, unwilling to be talked to, unwilling to allow himself a second of joy during this night out. Kuroo wondered why he even came at all if all it meant was to linger alone in silence with a half-empty cup of alcohol. But Kuroo thought he understood a little bit better when he finally found his eyes, burning into his skull with a silent hatred, as he stared back. But he was brave, so he approached him, despite the look intensifying with each and every step Kuroo made.

Kuroo wished he could say he walked over with grace, but that was not true. And he wished he could say he marched over and, as he stomped, Daishou’s gaze faltered and trembled with his own fear and uncertainty, but that was not true either. The last shot he took was probably more than he could have bargained for and he barreled over to Daishou, stumbling through the crowd, grabbing onto various arms and shoulders to keep himself completely upright as he approached. And his cheeks flushed with red-hot shame as he tripped so unfortunately that he nearly completely fell over directly in front of Daishou and Daishou’s violent eyes lightened into something bitter with amusement. 

Soon enough, Kuroo stood before Daishou, watching his eyes narrow, seething with quiet rage and discomfort. As much as Daishou visibly hated it, his head was tilted upwards to look into Kuroo’s challenging eyes, but there was only so much height Daishou could generate with intensity alone. His jaw was set and his nose was wrinkled with disgust, and as he spoke, Kuroo held his breath. This was the ultimate test— if he could handle his immediate insults, he could handle anything.

“Are you stalking me now, Kuroo?” He hissed, between his clenched teeth.

Kuroo stared at him for a long time before speaking.

“Am I stalking  _ you _ ?” He exclaimed, eyes widening. “ _ Are you serious _ ?”

Daishou sneered at him, “I’ve been here all night, you approached me, remember? Are you truly that thick in the skull? What don’t you understand about me wanting absolutely  _ nothing  _ to do with you.”

Kuroo took a step in his direction, bravery coursing through his veins, and leaned close to his face to make sure that Daishou could hear every word he had to say to him. He moved so quickly and with so much intention that he barely noticed Daishou suck in a sharp breath and take a step away, “What is your deal, Daishou? I don’t know what exactly you think I am doing to you, or whatever  _ threat,  _ I am to you, but I want you to know—” Kuroo took a big inhale, struggling to steady himself as his nerves drummed and his heart raced, but the safety of his shield held strong. “— I am way too cool and way too hot for you to just  _ pretend  _ you’re not  _ waiting  _ for me to look at you.”

Needless to say, Daishou was not expecting that.

And Kuroo thought he finally won.

Daishou was speechless, his mouth opening and closing as if he was not quite sure how to respond, and his eyes were no longer piecing and narrowed, they were thoughtful, and confused. Kuroo grinned widely, proud, and uprighted himself with his hands firmly on his hips. His legs gave way a bit and his stumbled backwards, slightly, the world swirling around him for a second, but he was able to watch Daishou’s curious face lighten with dark humor.

“You truly are the biggest idiot I have ever met in my long life,” he stated, mouth pulled upwards into a faint smirk. His eyes flickered down Kuroo’s body and back up to his face. Kuroo became extremely aware of how his legs were twisted in a way that ensured his posture to maintain vertical and not horizontal to the floor. “You’re really drunk, aren’t you?”

Kuroo’s grin widened as he nodded, bashful, “Yeah, m’a bit drunk tonight.”

Daishou moved with a slowness that would’ve made Kuroo’s skin crawl and he stepped closer to Kuroo, holding onto his arm, so lightly, so that Kuroo could stand correctly without wobbling. Then, Daishou spoke so quietly, so unexpectedly that Kuroo stopped breathing for a moment, “You’re not wrong about that. I am avoiding you.”

Daishou was frozen with an unnatural stillness as he stood so close to Kuroo. Kuroo wondered if he had stopped breathing altogether and the grip he had on his arm was so light that he wasn’t even certain that he was holding him at all. Daishou then took in a slow and shuddering breath, closing his eyes for a moment, and reopening them to find Kuroo’s light hazel-brown eyes gazing back, curious and filled with mystical wonder. There was no fear in Kuroo’s face. Not this time.

“What did I do?” Kuroo asked after a long silence, his voice softer, surprised Daishou even caught his words because they were said more so to himself than to the green-haired boy. “Tell me what I did so I can fix it.”

Daishou’s eyes flashed with darkness and his face twisted with some kind of emotion that Kuroo could not read fast enough. His jaw was clenched and the grip on Kuroo’s arm tightened ever so slightly, but he laughed deep in his chest. He spoke seriously, “Come with me, there’s a lot going on in here.”

Giggles bubbled past Kuroo’s lips as Daishou started to lead him through the crowd to find the exit of the bar, his mind racing with a jumble of thoughts that did not really make much sense, but all he really knew was that Daishou was talking to him and and Daishou was looking at him and Daishou wanted to be alone with him. And in any other realm beyond this one, Kuroo would be terrified, filled with fear, the chill in his bones would be overwhelming him at this point, but right now, all he could focus on was watching Daishou weave through the crowd effortlessly and try to catch up. It was harder than he expected, Daishou seemed to find all the right pockets to slip into to avoid being bumped or shoved and Kuroo kept stumbling over people and knocking into drinks. Daishou’s hand on Kuroo’s arm wasn’t helping much, but then Kuroo really stumbled and leaned heavily into Daishou who went motionless against him.

“Please try to stay upright during this,” he muttered to Kuroo, who was now so close to him in the crowd, inches away in the darkness, he could feel his breath on his face. Kuroo nodded, silently, just watching his face. Daishou’s eyes flashed, but it wasn’t threatening this time. Daishou’s hand slipped from Kuroo’s arm and found Kuroo’s fingers instead. Kuroo felt a warmth spread to the tops of his cheeks as he let Daishou pull him out of the bar by the hand. 

The air outside was cool against Kuroo’s skin, a relief to the hot and sticky air from inside the packed bar. The streets were quieter than earlier in the night when young adults were shouting at one another and howling with laughter at the promise of a fun night. There were still groups of girls giggling and standing in a circle and couples holding hands and waiting for their ride to come and take them back up to campus. The soft hum of music from within the bars rattled the buildings as Daishou continued to lazily pull Kuroo along the sidewalk. When the crowd had thinned out, Kuroo had found his place walking alongside the shorter boy, their pace slow and steady and still Daishou carried himself in way that made him seem untouchable. And yet, here Kuroo was, holding his hand, touching him.

And Kuroo was untouchable.

And here Daishou was, holding his hand, touching him.

They didn’t say anything as they walked. They didn’t go very far, just a few buildings away where it was quieter and there were no college students screaming into the night. Daishou turned a corner and pulled Kuroo along, slipping into a space between two buildings that resembled an alleyway without the ominous and scary feel to it. It was just quieter here. Darker. Daishou liked to lurk in the shadows, so Kuroo went willingly with him into one. It was silent until Kuroo started to snicker.

“What’s so funny?” Daishou asked, his voice less rough along the edges. It was softer. There was nobody around, so what was the point of putting on a facade— a presentation of sharp hostility and pointed words? This Daishou was different. Or, maybe, Kuroo wasn’t afraid anymore.

“You’re holding my hand,” he stated, a silly grin still on his lips. “And we’re alone.”

Daishou huffed and immediately dropped Kuroo’s hand, as if it burned him, and he waved his hand dismissively in his direction. Kuroo kept grinning and thought Daishou was going to duck away, creating space between them, but when he didn’t, Kuroo leaned in closer. It was Kuroo’s turn to have the twisted smirk.

“Are you always this infuriatingly annoying?” Daishou said, gazing up at Kuroo, his brows furrowed and mouth set in a scowl.

They were so close together now. With Kuroo’s unsteady wobbling, he found himself inches from Daishou, closer than he had ever been, so close Daishou’s breath was warm on his face in the cool nighttime air. Daishou’s expression had relaxed only slightly, his shoulders were tense and uneasy, as if he were ready to move away at a moment’s notice, but Kuroo didn’t pay any attention to that. He was too focused on breathing steadily, his shield of invincibility starting to disintegrate around him, leaving him open and vulnerable. And still, he was not afraid.

He lifted his hand and raised it close to Daishou’s face, hesitating to allow for Daishou to smack it away if he wanted, and when he didn’t, carefully brushed away a piece of green hair that fell into Daishou’s eyes. It was Daishou’s turn to hold his breath.

“You were going to tell me why you hate me,” Kuroo reminded him, his voice faint as he tilted his head to the side. Daishou’s menacing eyes had softened and he watched Kuroo as if he were the most only thing in his entire universe right now. But still, Kuroo could see a war going on behind Daishou’s eyes. A silent battle with himself raged on and he was unsure who would come out victorious. The same soft boy who stood before Kuroo, or the dangerous monster that Kuroo had only seen glimpses of. Daishou flinched slightly.

“I don’t hate you, Kuroo,” he said, softly. “It was never about hating you.”

Kuroo found himself drawn to the boy even more, leaning his head lower towards him. Daishou’s breath was caught in his throat and when he finally did take in that first slow, shaky breath, his hands clenched at his side. His eyes flicked down to Kuroo’s mouth and then quickly back up to his eyes, fists clenching tighter.

“I don’t understand.”

Daishou’s face moved away, so slightly, enough to create separation between them so that he could breathe easily, but it was not enough. He closed his eyes and set his jaw and stayed like that for a long time. Breathing in and out. Slowly. Steadily. Kuroo frowned, then, and almost moved away, the creeping feeling of sadness beginning to return to his limbs. It started with the chill in his bones coming back first, the blackhole of fear which had no beginning and no ending, and Kuroo found himself staring into it, at the edge, and with one wrong step he would tumble back into its icy and forbidden depths and never climb back out. But the sadness was worse. It started at the back of his head, a slow and aching burn, that made its way up to his eyes which glistened with a silent misery he did not fully understand.

“This is all too much.”

Kuroo sucked in a sharp breath and stared at Daishou sadly, “What?”

Daishou finally looked back up at Kuroo, his eyes blazing with ferociousness, his pupils dark and daunting, his mouth set in an angry grimace. He was back. The Daishou from a moment ago had gone.

“All of you. Your face. Your eyes.  _ Your scent _ ,” Daishou snapped. “You’re  _ too  _ much for me right now.”

But Daishou didn’t stomp away.

But Daishou didn’t shove past him.

But Daishou didn’t turn around and never spoke another word to Kuroo ever again.

His same violent eyes, his same face twisted with disgust and anger, tilted up towards Kuroo’s face and pulled all the air from Kuroo’s lungs. Both boys just lingered there for a while, breathing each other in, mouths so close their breath was hot on each other’s skin, nobody wanted to move first because to each boy, this was the scariest thing either of them had done in their entire life. Daishou trembled before him, with a combination of anger and fear plain on his face, as if he were holding back everything cruel and evil in the world just by standing before the simple boy with the hazel-brown eyes, and his thick black hair, and his pretty mouth.

Kuroo moved first.

Of course, Kuroo would move first. 

He was invincible tonight. 

He was absolutely untouchable.

It was the faintest of movements, so subtle, that the brushing of lips was barely there. It was a theory Kuroo had, that if he had moved, Daishou would move away. And when Daishou didn’t, he would lean in even more, and kiss him properly.

But, of course, that didn’t happen.

Kuroo tried to connect their mouths together, to press his forehead against Daishou’s, to lean in close and fully be in his space, welcomed and wanted— but Daishou did not let that happen. There was no warm welcome and there was no aching want. Instead, he quickly brought his hands between them, pushing Kuroo backwards with enough force to get him away immediately. It may not have been the intention of the green-haired boy, but Kuroo was on unsteady legs and he tumbled, unable to fight gravity any longer.

“Stop, stop, that’s too much. This is all too much,” Daishou stuttered, stumbling backwards himself, his face no longer twisted with anger and instead desperate and sad. The corners of his mouth were pulled down in a tight frown, his brows pulled with sadness. He trembled and shook with emotion, his voice was thick with regret and shame, “I’m not strong enough.”

He spoke so quietly, Kuroo was not sure it existed at all, and it was better this way because the hatred that clung to the words could burn holes in the hearts of men, “I’m supposed to be better than this, and I’m not, I’m just  _ weak _ .”

Kuroo grabbed at the wall to catch himself, but it was not enough. Kuroo fell over his own legs, collapsing onto the ground, hands catching his fall as he hit the ground, landing on his bottom with a solid thumb and a small groan. He stared up at Daishou who stared back at him with his piercing narrowed eyes full of regret and dismay, and if he had stared long enough, he may have been able to notice the subtle welling of wetness in the corners of his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Kuroo, I just—” Daishou started, moving to help Kuroo up, but stopping dead in his tracks, eyes widening.

Kuroo raised a hand to wave off his apology, too filled with shame to want to face Daishou, but was suddenly met by an intense stinging in his palm. Kuroo’s brows furrowed and he glanced to his hand and found a broken bottle shattered beside him, pieces of its black-stained glass sticking deep into his hand, the edges shiny and jagged. A small stream of rich crimson blood was beginning to swell and pour from the wound and coat his wrist and arm with its darkness. The pain was sharp, but Kuroo didn’t notice it much. The flush on his cheeks was too great and he wanted nothing more than to just get up and run from Daishou. He wanted to find Bokuto and Akaashi and hide from the great and swollen feeling of shame that knotted in his chest and dared to stay there for all of eternity. He didn’t want to cry, but he was so drunk that Akaashi and Bokuto wouldn’t care if he did.

God, Akaashi was going to be so mad at him for not only getting rejected by a stupid boy, but he is _also_ probably going to need stitches.

Kuroo tried to move to get up, with the broken glass shards still piercing the soft fleshy part of his palm, and he didn’t go anywhere, crying out at he accidentally pressed the pieces further into his hand, causing tears to prick in his eyes— yeah, that’s why they were there, he was in physical pain.

“ _ Kuroo _ ,” The voice was deeper than anything Kuroo had heard before, it was like a low rumble of a volcano about to erupt, thick and something out of a horror film. The growl that followed next made Kuroo’s eyes widen in absolute unabashed terror as it was ripped from the chest of an animal, vicious and violent. 

What stood before Kuroo was no longer Daishou. It was a creature of nightmares. A monster. The most terrifying being to exist on this planet, so horrifying, that Kuroo did not know how to react except to stare at the beast, mouth agape with terror, and his eyes wide and swollen with fear. That was when Kuroo leapt from the highest point of his mountain of fear and dove face first into its black abyss. There was no more shield of invincibility, no more blanket of safety, no more raw and unfiltered confidence— there was only the sinking feeling growing deeper and deeper in the pit of Kuroo’s stomach as the ice cold ocean of terror made his limbs go numb and his voice shrink as he stared at the monster who would surely take his life tonight.

Daishou had transformed.

His distinctly menacing and intense eyes lost all remnants of humanity and instead of the whites of his eyes, there were only black holes, and instead of his irises rich with color they were a seething blood-red, shining and haunting through the darkness of the alley. They were the most clear to Kuroo, taking in his terrified form on the ground, and paying extra close attention to the blood that dripped to the floor from his injured hand. His face was twisted with darkness as if it absorbed it all around him, his lips peeled back over his teeth as he barred them at the dark-haired boy as if he were born with animalistic ferocity. A growl ripped from his throat as his head cocked violently to the side in an unbearably inhuman way, the veins in his neck pulsed, stained black as his face appeared to become paler in contrast with the lines as they grew like tiny scars along his jawline and up to his temples.

There was a moment when it seemed as if the beast itself was fighting to stay there, to stay present, to be in total control, but it was so fleeting that it was useless to hope for Daishou to return to normal. Daishou was this beast. This terrifying creature of the night.

And Kuroo was his prey.

Kuroo whimpered as he tried to scoot himself away, but it was useless as in a flash, so quickly he may as well have teleported, Daishou was leaning over Kuroo, a sickening smirk on his mouth as he watched the blood continue to cover Kuroo’s entire arm. His body convulsed in a disgusting way, head cocking sharply to the other side as Kuroo’s heart beat faster and faster, making the blood pump more and more out of the wound. 

Daishou took a deep and slow breath, his face twisting with ecstasy as he reached down and aggressively grabbed onto Kuroo’s wrist. Kuroo writhed against his grip, face twisting with pain as he cried out, using his other hand to try and claw his way out, but it was useless against his vice grip. There was no way he was going to be able to break free with his own strength.

Kuroo’s head was spinning, thoughts were not formulating like they used to, his only goal was to get away, to scream into the night, to be as far as possible from this monster. But he couldn’t scream, he couldn’t fight back hard enough, Daishou held him by the wrist as if he were a toddler who had recently gotten in trouble. He whimpered, pathetically, and grabbed at Daishou’s hand, spreading the blood around as if it were a red paint, staining Daishou’s hand and his other alike.

“Shhh, stop fighting, sweet boy,” Daishou hummed, his voice deep in his throat, it was guttural and disgusting. “We all knew it would end this way. I did warn you that I’d make you regret all of this.”

Kuroo was crying. His legs scrambled beneath him as he tried  _ so desperately _ to get away. Daishou began to yank the pieces of glass that had been lodged deep into Kuroo’s hand out, one by one, eliciting cry after cry from the dark-haired boy. He was begging for the monster to stop, weeping as the blood flowed more freely now and pain exploded across his entire arm. Daishou did not stop there, tightening his grip on Kuroo’s wrist so hard that he could hear the bones starting to snap under its extreme pressure and Kuroo screamed at last. His vision blurred as the pain overwhelmed him and the tears fell uncontrollably from his eyes.

“Please,” he begged, moaning, wretchedly limp in Daishou’s grip. “Please, stop,  _ it hurts _ .”

Daishou hummed but it came out more like a roar in his throat. He pressed his hand into Kuroo’s bloody open wounds, smearing it all over his pale skin, and brought his blood-stained hand under his nose and breathed in so deeply. He painted his mouth and chin with the crimson liquid, tongue snaking out and tasting it on his lips. The image made Kuroo want to throw up, watching his own blood licked at as if it were somebody’s treat. His violent eyes glowed red as he glowered at Kuroo, teeth now stained scarlet with Kuroo’s own blood. Kuroo thought he would pass out, but remarkably, he continued to stare at the monster with nothing but sheer terror and the slow acceptance that this would be his last few moments on earth. 

“I’m surprised I’ve lasted this long,” Daishou taunted. “You’re the best smelling thing I’ve ever experienced in my long, long life, Kuroo. I wondered what you tasted like ever since I first laid eyes on you. Don’t be so sad, you taste like pleasure. The pain will end soon enough.”

Daishou moved to bring Kuroo’s bloody wrist to his mouth and Kuroo crushed his eyes shut, waiting for the pain to only intensify and, hopefully soon after, stop and he could drift away into whatever else there was after this short life. But Daishou’s teeth never sank into Kuroo’s soft fleshy skin, there was never an explosion of agony that sent Kuroo deep into the depths of darkness and peace at last. There was a noise, like lightning striking the earth, and then a loud  _ crack _ as the thunder followed. Kuroo hit the floor with a smack, his head connecting with the concrete and his vision erupted in blackness that he desperately tried to blink away, unwilling to die like this. There were violent snarls all around him, hissing and spitting, like a multitude of beasts had burst from the darkness. It was only when Kuroo’s vision had settled and the black spots faded into reality once again could he understand the scene that unfolded before him.

Daishou was pinned up against the wall, hissing and snapping his jaw like an aggressive monster at the three others who snarled and growled back at him. They all looked the same. Black veins growing from various parts of their too pale skin, eyes black, crimson red irises glowing more and more vibrant the longer they glared at Daishou who struggled to break free. On each arm was Tanaka and Daichi, their faces twisted with fury and ferocity as they held onto him. Pressing his chest into the wall was Nishinoya, his teeth glistened white and razor sharp as he threatened to take his own bite out of Daishou’s neck, hissing threats in his own deep and dark guttural tone.

“Kuroo?” The voice was so small compared to the violent scene unfolding around him. “Oh no, no, no, no, Kuroo, I’m so sorry— I’m so sorry— this is all my fault.”

Kuroo’s head lulled to the side as Hinata lowered himself to the ground, kneeling beside him and taking his bloody and broken arm gingerly into his hands. Kuroo hissed as any movement of the arm sent striking and sharp pain down his entire body and he began to cry again. Hinata’s round amber eyes were not like the others’ as he ran them anxiously up and down Kuroo’s broken form, trying to determine the state of his friend as he lay crumpled on the concrete surrounded by his own blood. Hinata still looked the same. So small and honest. His form filled with earnest joy. But there was no joy this time. There was only shame and fear as he stared back at Kuroo, holding his bloody arm in his hands, blaming himself for this hell Kuroo experienced.

“Don’t do this right now, Hinata.” Sugawara’s voice was sharp in the darkness and Kuroo could not help the overwhelming feeling of peace at last. “We have to get him out of here.”

Sugawara knelt on the other side of Kuroo, his face still as soft and kind as any other moment before this one. His warm brown eyes held Kuroo’s as his lips pulled into a faint smile. He nodded at him, reassuring him, and placed a gentle hand on Kuroo's forehead.

“You’re going to be okay, Kuroo,” he said, quietly, “I promise.”

Kuroo released the breath he was holding and choked on a sob, reaching out blindly to grab onto Sugawara. Sugawara gave him his hand to hold onto, squeezing it gently. Sugawara’s skin was cool to the touch, a relief as his entire body felt as if he were burning alive, and he let his head fall back against the ground lightly, lulling to look back at Hinata who watched him. Hinata’s eyes welled with tears as he pressed his lips together into a solid line to keep them from trembling. Slowly, Hinata lifted his hands from Kuroo and visibly began to shake, with rage, with anguish, Kuroo did not know, but Hinata’s fingers were now coated in his blood.

“This is all my fault,” he whispered. “I did this to you.”

Sugawara cleared his throat, catching Hinata’s attention. “I need you to go help with Daishou, Hinata.” His voice was a warning. Gentle and commanding.

Hinata looked desperately at Sugawara, silently pleading with him to let him stay, but when he glanced down at Kuroo, Kuroo noticed that the light amber color of Hinata’s eyes were slowly fading into a bright red the longer he sat in Kuroo’s blood. Hinata grit his teeth and hung his head in shame, holding tight onto Kuroo, but not in the same violent way that Daishou had. Hinata wanted to stay with him. Hinata wanted to help him.

Asahi appeared, as human as Sugawara seemed, and touched Hinata’s shoulder. He gave it a soft squeeze and slowly began to peel Hinata away from Kuroo and led him over to where Daishou thrashed against the others. Kuroo watched Hinata go, his now red eyes glistening with tears as he left. Asahi took Hinata’s place beside him and spoke to Sugawara in a hushed tone. Kuroo tried to listen to them, but the fuzzy feeling in his head was becoming too great and the longer he fought off the blackness that began to steep into his vision, the harder it became to keep his eyes open at all. Kuroo groaned, helpless grimace on his face as Sugawara gently shushed him, carefully brushing his hair out of his face while Asahi curled his strong arms under him to lift him up.

“Rest now, Kuroo,” Sugawara said, his voice sounding far away and distant, like he was calling to him from deep inside a cave. “You’re safe with us.”

He was fading fast.

He did not feel pain anymore. He did not feel anything at all.

And he welcomed the peace— because the sooner he would be engulfed by its black waters, the closer he came to understand what it meant to be human. That there was joy in the human existence— and those moments were warm.

The last thing Kuroo saw as he, finally, faded to black, was Sugawara lifting up his injured hand and inspecting it with the edges of his warm brown eyes tinged with bright red.

There was also fear in the human existence— and those moments reminded him of how completely breakable he actually was.


	6. A Human Reaction

This is about Akaashi.

This is about how Akaashi lost his best friend. 

He did not lose him in the sense that his heart stopped and he had to bury him deep into the depths of the earth. No, that would mean finality. That would guarantee certainty. For a heart to stop beating and for lungs to cease to breathe, one must conclude that the existence of life had diminished. When functioning ended, life followed. And that was a conclusion that science had backed up for centuries— 

—that dead was dead.

No, Akaashi did not lose his best friend to finality. He did not lose his friend to certainty. He lost his friend to the void of uncertainty. And uncertainty was most certainly more terrifying than finality. Finality was the end, there was no uncertainty around that. Finality was definite and true. With uncertainty, every possibility that was ever fathomed could not be countered unless directly challenged with certainty. And there are only so many layers to certainty that exist. And within those layers, pieces of uncertainty continue to remain. Which is why, when Akaashi lost his best friend to uncertainty, his mind was unable to grasp onto any one thought that did not prove definite.

This is about Akaashi.

This is about how Akaashi lost his best friend to the confines of uncertainty.

This is about how Akaashi grappled with his anxiety and the swollen feeling of regret and how he most uncomfortably attempted to face the lack of finality head on.

***

Saturday mornings were meant to hold the secrets of the night before on hushed lips. Saturday mornings were meant for keeping the unspoken things held tightly to your chest so not a single soul would earn a peek of the previous night’s darkest stories. Saturday mornings were meant for reflection. For staring up at the bedroom ceiling and trying to wipe away the dust on the fuzziest memories, placing them in chronological order, and wondering where in the hell you went so, so wrong. And sometimes, Saturday mornings were meant for fondness. The events which led up to the exact moment eyes opened and you were so engulfed in warmth that it did not matter what had happened or how it had happened, it just happened and now, anything before Friday night did not matter.

For Akaashi, the warmth was the easiest part of his Saturday morning. The hardest part was the reflecting. Akaashi sat in Bokuto’s bed, staring up at the ceiling. He was laying on the farthest end, so close to falling off the edge, with a fraction of the blanket, but still he was warm. He had changed into pajamas at some point in the night, probably borrowing something from Bokuto. He didn’t fill them out in the same way that Bokuto did, but it didn’t matter too much. It wasn’t the first time he had slept over in Bokuto’s bed. He was used to this.

No, Akaashi did not end up in Bokuto’s bed in the way that would have made his cheeks flush red and his voice get caught in his throat. Even the thought of anything like that happening made him press the palms of his hands into his eyes so that he could focus on his breathing as it started to tickle in his throat. No, Akaashi was familiar with Bokuto’s ‘sad boy sleepovers’. Usually, it involved Bokuto relentlessly calling his friends’ cell phones and begging until somebody came over to spend the night, but last night did not involve Bokuto upset and needing company. It was Akaashi who struggled to maintain his even-temper and it was Bokuto who suggested they just go home and try to sleep. No, Akaashi’s night was not filled with the warmth he would have preferred. It was filled with unprecedented uncertainty. Unprecedented anxiety. 

But he was not ready to revisit that place. Instead, he leaned into the warmth of the bed, despite being pushed to the edge as Bokuto’s long limbs were spread haphazardly across the mattress, the blanket wrapped and pulled in a way taut around his legs which barely left a scrap for Akaashi to curl himself into. Bokuto was snoring as well. Loud and roaring. And Akaashi did nothing except roll over to get a better look at the sleeping boy and bite back the small lingering smile which started to twitch onto his lips.

He seemed so peaceful. Bokuto was usually very high energy and constantly moving, bearing his emotions on his sleeve as if there was no other way to express himself— it was always a wonder to Akaashi to see him like this. Quiet. Reserved. Soft. Delicate. Akaashi reached out to touch Bokuto’s hair, which no longer was combed back or gelled, and instead long and falling across his face in its two contrasting colors of black and white. He brushed it with his fingertips, lighting trailing down his face, and lightly tucking it behind his ear. And when his fingers grazed the warmth of his cheek, Akaashi’s heart skipped a beat, and he carefully withdrew his hand. Still, he flushed, the tops of his cheeks warmer now, and he tried to pull the blanket up over his head to hide it, but Bokuto was too heavy and too much of an unforgiving sleeper to allow for any blanket to be released. He didn’t hide his face with shame. No, that was too critical of himself. He hid his face because of the world of uncertainty involved in exposing these feelings to his best friend. There were too many different reactions Bokuto could have. Too many endings that Akaashi was afraid of. So it was easier to hide than face the fear. Hiding meant certainty. Hiding allowed finality. They were best friends. That’s all.

Akaashi was fiddling with his piece of the blanket when he noticed the snoring had stopped. He glanced towards Bokuto, his dark blue eyes alight with curiosity. He only startled slightly when he was met with Bokuto’s glowing golden eyes, wide and round, watching him. Watching all of him.

“Can you share the blanket?” Akaashi asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Bokuto’s brows furrowed for a moment, as if he did not understand the question, and then the realization flashed clearly across his face.

“Oh!”

In the shuffle to get his legs untangled from the mass of blanket, his limbs flailed wildly, Akaashi ducked out of the way to avoid earning an elbow to the jaw. Bokuto scrambled to unwrap himself and threw more and more of the blanket onto Akaashi’s side and eventually there was no blanket left for him. He grinned widely at him, throwing himself at Akaashi, wrapping his long arms and legs tightly around Akaashi’s now burrito-ed form. Akaashi huffed and narrowed his eyes, frowning slightly.

“Are you warm now, Akaashi?” Bokuto exclaimed, nuzzling his face into Akaashi’s shoulder, which prompted Akaashi to put a firm hand on his head and shove him away, smiling quietly to himself.

“Stop, you stink, please go shower.”

Bokuto groaned and dramatically threw his arms off of Akaashi, spreading himself out on the open part of the bed, mock-glaring at the ceiling.

“But I don’t want to,” He huffed, stealing a glance at Akaashi as he adjusted himself under the blankets and wiggled more onto the bed so that he would not tumble off if Bokuto decided to throw himself at him again. “It’s still too early.”

Akaashi yawned and rubbed at his eyes. “It’s nearly 11 in the morning, Bo.”

Bokuto huffed again and flopped back onto Akaashi who let him stay this time, “I’m not even hungover, I don’t want to shower right now. I want to lay here and nap. Like a small kitten.”

“You are the farthest thing from a small kitten.”

Bokuto laughed, loudly, right in Akaashi’s ear. He winced slightly, and curled away, unable to completely break free of Bokuto’s secure arms around him. It was a soft moment, the silence that settled over them. Akaashi was warm with Bokuto nestled close, his arm flung lazily across him. His golden eyes hidden behind his eyelids again as he feigned sleep again, hoping Akaashi would not prompt him to move again. Akaashi let him rest, watched as his breathing slowed, and he wondered if sleep had actually come or if Bokuto had found himself a moment of peace so that he could ease into it and stay within it safely. 

It was the calm before the storm. In silence, there are countless moments to yourself. It is never truly silent, at least, in Akaashi’s experience, he cannot drown himself in the quiet. His thoughts are too frequent, too racing, and sometimes, unbearably intrusive. This time, in this silence, the one where Bokuto was close to him, and his breathing was sound, his thoughts filtered in one by one like an unfortunate parade of discomfort. He tried to close his eyes, to will sleep, but it was only worse.

He remembered the bar and he remembered Kuroo. He remembered how drunk Kuroo was and how he had refused to drink any water. He had been concerned, trying to hold onto his shirt so that he wouldn’t slip away, so that he wouldn’t fall, so that he wouldn’t tumble head first into a table stacked with glass bottles and mugs and come out looking like a victim from a horror novel. Akaashi tried to avoid all of those things while Bokuto hooted and hollered and egged Kuroo on, playing shot for shot, buying him another drink, dancing with him, bumping into strangers. Akaashi truly thought his heart had stopped at one point when Bokuto sneered at some big guy with tattoos on his massive biceps and Kuroo slung an insult at him. He had herded the pair away, far away, but still his anxieties were high. He had wanted to take them home but of course they did not let him. Strength in numbers was a very true fact and the strength of both an intoxicated Bokuto and Kuroo was unmatched by some of the greatest armies.

He remembered Kuroo waving at them that he was going to the bathroom. Akaashi had watched him go inside the bathroom, but he couldn’t remember seeing him come out. He couldn’t remember how Kuroo had slipped away, because when he finally went to check, Kuroo was nowhere near the bathrooms anymore. He had vanished. Just like a ghost into the night. Bokuto tried to calm Akaashi down, trying to reassure him that Kuroo was a big boy and that he would be able to make his way home. He even tried to reassure him that he had other friends here, noting that he had seen Asahi and Sugawara floating around the bar. But Akaashi couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in his stomach as it grew and expanded and overwhelmed his whole body. He had kept his expression cool, he had kept his eyes somber and sober, but internally, it felt as if a canyon of fear had ripped open his chest and settled at the pit of his stomach.

So Bokuto took him home. Of course, Bokuto knew better. He knew his friend well enough to take his anxious hands and pull him out of the bar. He knew his friend well enough to continue cracking jokes, bumping his arm with his elbow, trying to elicit a smile or a laugh or a distraction strong enough to keep Akaashi from looking at his phone and anxiously awaiting Kuroo’s text. Even though Akaashi’s expression was cool and calculating, his curious eyes ever searching and ever wondering, behind it all was somebody who never dared to swim through the uncertain waters of the unknown.

Behind it all was somebody who relied heavily on the certain and very rarely concluded based upon the uncertain.

Akaashi impulsively withdrew from Bokuto, stirring him awake, as he reached out to the nearby nightstand and grabbed his phone. He scrolled through his messages and phone calls eager to find one from Kuroo. A response. A phone call. Any indication that he made it home alive. Any indication that he made it home without slipping on the icy sidewalks and cracking his skull on the ground or passing out drunk in the trees. Or— even worse— abducted or beaten senseless because when Kuroo ends up that drunk, only terrible things seem to occur. And that was certain.

**12:54 AM - AKAASHI: We’re by the bar if you can’t find us.**

**01:33 AM - AKAASHI: Where are you?**

**02:49 AM - AKAASHI: Kuroo what the fuck**

“Fuck,” Akaashi hissed under his breath realizing that Kuroo did not reach out to him.

“Hey, stop that,” Bokuto muttered, voice thick with sleep, as he reached across Akaashi and pulled his phone away. Akaashi resisted for a second, fingers tightening around his phone, before letting Bokuto hide it somewhere in the bed with them.

“Kuroo didn’t reply,” Akaashi said, as plainly as he could. Bokuto frowned, his bright golden eyes watching Akaashi carefully, knowingly, reading into the blue-eyed boy so deeply that Akaashi felt shy lying so close to him.

Akaashi’s expression faltered, his steady temper trembling before Bokuto. It was easier for him to slip up and that only made Akaashi want to retreat further into himself, masking it all with a small frown that pulled at the corners of his mouth and the subtle furrowing of his dark brows. Bokuto smushed his face into Akaashi’s chest and Akaashi wondered if he could hear his heart beginning to race.

“You know what Kuroo gets up to when he’s drunk,” Bokuto tried, his attempts at reassurance futile against the already racing thoughts hidden behind Akaashi’s eyes. “He’s probably in some boy’s bed too hungover to look at his phone right now.”

“Right,” Akaashi mumbled to himself, curling into Bokuto. 

Bokuto sighed against his chest. “Or he’s found himself at Kenma’s. Do you remember that one time when we couldn’t find him all night long and then at five in the morning Kenma hand delivered him to your dorm covered in his own vomit? I’m sure it’s just like that.” Bokuto chuckled, Akaashi could feel the rumbles in his chest against his body. 

“Right,” Akaashi repeated, voice still soft.

Bokuto laughed a little bit louder and gave his friend a firm squeeze before lifting his head to tuck his chin against Akaashi’s chest and stared up at him, his mouth curled into his full and happy grin. Akaashi’s cheeks were warm, his blue eyes twinkling with fondness despite the desire to tear across the campus looking for Kuroo.

“I’m always right,” Bokuto admitted. “Do you want to get lunch soon? Hopefully by then Kuroo will be awake and we can grab food with him.”

Akaashi nodded, eager to satisfy his urge to start challenging the certain obstacles of uncertainty.

“Only if you shower first.” Akaashi giggled quietly as he began to shove Bokuto off of him. Bokuto howled with laughter and fought back against Akaashi, grabbing as his arms and earning a knee to the gut, rolling away from him as well as dragging him along.

The pair ended up pressed against each other, both eyes crinkled with laughter. Both hands holding one another. Both smiles turned up with joy. Both staying silent about the closeness of their bodies and the feeling of breath on their faces. 

The moment ended when Akaashi had discovered his phone hidden underneath Bokuto and he promptly snatched it away to send a brief concerned text to Kenma asking if he knew of Kuroo’s whereabouts.

***

  
  


Lunch was quiet. Saturday mornings in the Mess were always particularly quiet for the lunch hours. Students who had spent the previous night out and about slept through the lunch hours easily and the students who had productively spent their Friday night preparing for their Saturday night had already wrapped up their early lunch leaving the tables scattered across the hall barren and empty. It was as dead as a graveyard, the hungover zombies from the previous night were the only visitors, moving at a snail’s pace through the food lines, sitting at the empty and silent tables with their heads in their hands as they willed the pounding in their head away and the nausea in their stomach to ease. But today seemed quieter.

Bokuto was still loud and rambling about something he thought about in the shower. Akaashi tried to listen, reminding himself to nod in agreement or hum with interest every so often so that Bokuto would not know his mind was elsewhere. Bokuto did not seem to notice with the same accuracy as he had in the morning time, he was far too invested in munching on his three pieces of toast, analyzing it with a ferocity in hopes of discovering the next Jesus Toast and selling it online for thousands of dollars— at least, that’s what Akaashi thought he was saying. Bokuto carried on, eating plate after plate of food while Akaashi just picked at his bowl of cereal which was now soggy and unappealing. He sighed, keeping his eyes towards the entrance of the Mess waiting to see if Kuroo would stumble through with his hair a mess and a hickey on his shoulder. Akaashi would settle for any kind of Kuroo at this point.

“Hey, Kenma! Hey!” Bokuto threw his arms up, startling Akaashi who whirled around to find Kenma approaching, his cat-like eyes finding him, his expression bored as he walked over. 

“Hi, guys,” Kenma said, his voice quiet, as he sat down at the table reaching over onto Bokuto’s plate and swiping a piece of toast.

Bokuto’s eyes widened and he snatched it back, looking it over thoroughly before handing it back to Kenma who stared at him with his eyebrows raised in surprise and quiet confusion before accepting it and taking a slow and uncertain bite. Kenma’s small form was curled up in his seat, his blond hair hanging in his eyes despite his best efforts. Bokuto eyed him curiously, taking a giant bite of one of his hard-boiled eggs. He pointed at Kenma and spoke with his mouth full.

“You seem different this morning. Did you sleep last night?”

Kenma glanced at Akaashi who was unavailable as he was anxiously watching the entrance from where Kenma emerged, wondering if Kuroo was close behind and stopping at the food stations. Kenma took another slow and thoughtful bite before answering.

“No.”

Akaashi brought his attention back, “What? You didn’t sleep at all?”

Kenma shrugged. “No.”

Bokuto cackled with laughter, as if he held all the answers to all the world’s unknowns, “I knew it!”

“Did you sleep last night?” Kenma said, staring directly into Akaashi’s eyes, his expression flat as he casually took another bite of his bread. After a moment, his eyes flickered down to the hoodie he was wearing then back to his face. He was wearing Bokuto’s hoodie. He didn’t want to walk all the way back to his apartment to change, so he just borrowed something of Bokuto’s. It wasn’t abnormal— but nothing ever got past Kenma. And still, the tops of Akaashi’s cheeks were beginning to warm but he swallowed the feeling deep inside of himself again.

“Yes, I slept,” Akaashi grumbled, curling his arms across his chest and leaning back in his seat.

“I slept like a baby! Akaashi and I snuggled all night. Isn’t that right, Akaashi?” Bokuto exclaimed, bumping his arm with his open faced palm and grinning widely.

Akaashi wished he could sink into floor. He grit his teeth and ignored Bokuto’s silly grin while Kenma’s smirked into his bread, his eyes twinkling with joy and the unspoken secret he held close to his chest that he knew Akaashi held even closer. Akaashi stared back down at his cereal while Bokuto described the events of last night, whether purposefully or not, neglecting to mention all the pieces that involved Kuroo and Akaashi’s anxious hunting for him. Kenma nodded, it was unclear if he was actually retaining the information. It wasn’t hard to convince Bokuto that he captivated his audience, if a brick wall gave him a sliver of reassurance, he would be able to talk to it all night long.

After Bokuto’s long retelling of the excitement of the evening, Kenma offered a small, genuine smile, and nodded, “Wow, sounds like a very long night. You said Kuroo was with you guys, right?”

Akaashi’s chest tightened, the pit at the bottom of his stomach ached with concern, but for the slightest moment, there was a brief flash of hope. A brief second of wonder as Akaashi gazed into Kenma’s knowing and thoughtful eyes that he had seen Kuroo. That he knew where Kuroo had been hiding. That he had seen Kuroo with his own eyes. That he had spoken to him in the early hours of the morning time during his own sleepless night. Akaashi mindlessly tapped his foot under the table.

“Yeah, we were with Kuroo for a while but he disappeared,” Bokuto admitted, laughing slightly, offering a reassuring glance in Akaashi’s way.

“Did he not try to visit you last night?” Akaashi asked.

Kenma shook his head and shrugged. “No, I haven’t seen him.”

Nobody seemed concerned. Bokuto snorted and Kenma pushed his hair behind his ear. The action was nonchalant and easy. It was simple and smooth, done a hundred times over without a second thought. It was a mindless motion, to lift his fingers, to tuck the piece of hair behind his ear, to carry on. Nobody asked anymore questions. Nobody mentioned Kuroo again. The lunch carried on, the too quiet silence of the Mess on a Saturday morning was deafening as Kenma and Bokuto simply _ carried on _ . And Akaashi absolutely could not let himself forget. Akaashi could not hold the acceptance of this certainty in his hands. Kenma and Bokuto were certain, they were comfortable, they had chosen their personal finality. And Akaashi did not. He could not. 

Abruptly, Akaashi pushed himself back from the table and stood up, earning surprised and concerned glances from his friends. His shoulders had tensed and his hands clenched at his sides as the uncertainty pressed further into him like a hungry beast, consuming all of him until all of his thoughts were unable to detach from the spiral thinking. He waved off Bokuto’s exclamations, grunting something under his breath about making himself another bagel. As he walked over to the kitchen, Bokuto and Kenma were mumbling quietly to themselves.

He tried to turn his mind, to focus on the things he knew were certain. That he had been with Kuroo. And how he had not. If only he had looked a little bit harder, if only he had stayed directly next to the bathroom, if only he had waited a little bit longer, if only he hadn’t let Bokuto drag him away. If only he had said no to Bokuto. If only he had searched the bar one more time. If only he had made Kuroo charge his phone before he left. If only he had gone into the bathroom with him. If only he had made Kuroo stop drinking. If only he had made him drink more water, if only, if only, if only—

Akaashi’s breath had caught in his throat, his breathing becoming shallow in his chest, and his eyes widened slightly. There was a tightness forming within him, tightening to the point where breathing made him feel as if the tightness would snap and all of the fear and uncertainty would tumble out of him in a downpour of anxiety and terror. 

His hands clenched around the fresh bagel he held, crushing it into a tight ball. He cursed it silently and marched to the trashcan and threw it away, scowling to himself. It was becoming harder and harder to keep his expression cool. It was becoming harder and harder to convince himself he could do this.

“Dude, are we supposed to grab two orange yogurts? Or two oranges  _ and  _ yogurt?”

“Didn’t Hinata say we were supposed to bring him toast? Did he clarify what kind? What if he hates wheat bread.”

“Oh no, we can’t get him something he hates, he might cry again.”

Akaashi glanced over to find a pair of boys leaning over the cold food items line, muttering to themselves. Their eyebrows had pulled down with a look of confusion across their faces, leaning over an assortment of fruit and yogurt they had gathered into a takeout container. Akaashi watched them curiously for a moment before he recognized the two. Both boys’ faces were cut by hard lines and fierce facial expressions, with wide and wondrous eyes that could sharpen at any moment, as well as soften into something of mock kindness. They reminded him of Bokuto, intensity in the form of laughter, hardness in the form of unbreakable loyalty— and a touch of not really knowing what’s going on. Akaashi couldn’t remember their names, but he recognized them from the group of Jans Kuroo knew. Maybe they knew where Kuroo was.

The shorter one with the dark hair and patch of blond at his forehead frowned at the plate of oranges he held, “Man, Tanaka, I don’t think this is right.”

The other one with the buzzcut frowned, “No, Sugawara definitely said something about oranges, so we should focus on the oranges. How many oranges are too many?”

“Wait, why are your oranges so much bigger than my oranges?”

“Because what he is picking up are grapefruits. Not the same.” Akaashi walked over, startling the pair, causing the shorter one to drop his handful of oranges as they rolled across the floor. His eyes flashed with anger but it quickly vanished and was replaced with wide-eyed terror as he found Akaashi’s serious face.

“Uh, thanks,” Tanaka mumbled, shoving the grapefruits back into their bowl and trying to recover the oranges before they all rolled away. He shoved them back into the shorter boy’s hands, “Hold these, Noya.”

Ah, that’s right. Nishinoya and Tanaka. Kuroo mentioned them once before.

“You guys know Kuroo, right?” Akaashi asked, fidgeting as he watched the pair scramble with their fruits.

The pair froze and shared a glance with one another, Nishinoya spoke first, “Yeah, he’s my friend.”

Tanaka threw the oranges into the takeout container and whatever else he could carry in his arms, and started to leave, moving at a rapid pace. “Who the fuck is Kuroo?” he called over his shoulder as he fled the scene.

Nishinoya stood there staring back at Akaashi, Akaashi’s eyes narrowed, in his arms at least five oranges.

“Did you happen to see him last night? He was with us but he stopped answering his phone, and I haven’t seen him all morning. Do you know if he’s okay?”

Something flitted across Nishinoya’s face. Something somber. Something sad. Something serious. Something deadly. Nishinoya set his jaw and shrugged.

“I saw him at the bar. I haven’t seen him since.” Nishinoya watched Akaashi for a long time. He watched Akaashi’s face fall, his shoulders slump, and his breath quicken as somehow breathing seemed to get harder and harder with each passing second Akaashi did not know where his friend was. Nishinoya’s expression softened, if only slightly, “I’m sure he’s okay.”

Akaashi’s dark blue eyes flashed with anger, tired of hearing that same statement over and over again. He stomped away from the kitchen area and back to his friends, empty-handed, his chest tight and unsteady. His expression was dark and clouded with anger as he tried to convince himself over and over that everything was fine. So that he could live in the ignorant bliss of uncertainty. To exist in the unknown. But to Akaashi, the unknown was never ending. There wasn’t just unknown and unknown, it was a massive grey area painted black and ugly. It was empty and full of the secrets of the universe. And the only noise was the sinking spiral of his thoughts as he fought with himself.

Bokuto looked up to Akaashi and frowned, his golden eyes sad and sorry. He tried to speak, but Akaashi only raised his hand. Akaashi would be lying if Bokuto’s hurt puppy eyes didn’t make him wish he could exist in the uncertainty even longer, but he could not allow himself to stay in his present state. He didn’t want to listen any more. He couldn’t listen anymore.

“I’m going to Kuroo’s room. I’m going to see if he’s in there.”

Kenma shrugged, but Bokuto spoke. 

“He just does this sometimes, Akaashi, he’s fine. You’re working yourself up for no reason.”

Akaashi did not speak, he only bristled further.

“He’s probably at that one guy’s house. You know how he gets when he’s seeing someone. They’re probably holed up somewhere. We’ll see Kuroo when he comes out of his sex coma, it’s fine.”

“Bo, stop talking,” Kenma warned, softly.

“There’s no way he was kidnapped for anything. It was way too crowded out there. He isn’t dead, if that’s what you’re thinking. Kuroo is  _ fine _ .”

“ _ Bokuto _ ,” Kenma hissed.

But it was too late.

Akaashi’s breath got caught in his throat for the last time and he felt like he could not breathe any longer. He struggled to grab onto the table, his eyes exploding with black spots, and the world seemed to rotate and spiral all around him. He felt as if he was having a heart attack, as if his heart might burst from his chest, but only if he could not get the oxygen into his lungs. And he was confident that that wasn’t happening right now.

His breath was a wheeze in his throat and Kenma reached out to steady Akaashi as he struggled, but he flinched away. Tears welled in his eyes, closing up his throat, and he crushed his eyes to keep the wetness from falling. He would not cry in front of his friends. He would not cry in front of Bokuto. He refused. He aggressively wiped his face with his trembling hands and struggled to stand, not wanting to look at his friends. Not wanting to talk to his friends. He only wanted to find his one friend. And if that meant searching up and down the campus with the swollen feeling of anxiety in his chest, he would do it.

He left the Mess and started towards Kuroo’s dorm building. Bokuto called after him, hurrying to catch up with him. He reached for his hand, to hold it and not hold him back, and Akaashi let him. He dragged him behind him. His breathing was unchanged and his chest ached, but he kept walking. He had to check. He had to ensure certainty. He had to ensure that Kuroo was okay. Because he wasn’t going to be okay without knowing. There was a deep, heavy sinking feeling weighing him down at the pit of his stomach warning him that Kuroo was not okay. And he didn’t know what to do with it except worry. Except exist in the realm of uncertainty that he so desperately tried to stay out of. Except embrace the uncertainty head on.

And still it swallowed him whole.

And still he could not see through the black abyss as he tried to climb out of it. 

Certainty was so much easier to understand than uncertainty— that dead was dead.

Finality is simple.

Uncertainty is not.

Akaashi looked behind him as he marched across the campus, his hand warm in Bokuto’s, and found golden eyes staring back. They were filled with hope and sadness. 

And Akaashi found he was certain of one thing—

—Bokuto wasn’t going to give up on him. Bokuto wasn’t going to let him do this alone.


	7. Say it. Out loud.

_ “Rest now, Kuroo. _

_ “You’re safe with us.” _

Kuroo drifted in the ocean. The water was as clear as glass. It's only reflection was the nighttime sky that enveloped him, painting his world in a rich never-ending blackness dotted with a million shining stars to stare back down at him with their own curiosity and wonder. The stars surrounded him, far above him, far below him, deep in the depths of the reflection of the ocean as the current carried him gently across its vast waters. The only sound was his breathing and the soft whooshing of the water as it lifted and lowered him up and down through the void of the universe.

There was nothing else around him except for the water and the stars. His mind was thoughtless, eyes captivated only by the twinkling of the stars around him. Some stars were so far away that it would take him millions of years of searching to find it and take firm grasp of his brilliance, but others lingered near the surface of the ocean. Some floated so close to him that he could reach out and snatch it from the sky and hold its power in his hands, bright and burning light pouring from between his fingers in a dazzling and gleaming golden yellow. He wanted to press the warmth and radiance of the twinkling deep into his empty chest and fill himself with its yellow so that he could no longer be black. So that he could no longer be hollow and instead filled with the shimmering light of the low hanging stars.

_ “Was he bitten?” _

_ “No, I don’t think so.” _

_ “You don’t think so?” _

_ “I’m certain of it, Hinata. We were lucky.” _

_ “You would call this luck, Asahi?” _

But he did not lift his fingers from the cool black waters, he did not steal the stars from their home in the sky, he did not threaten their existence by consuming their lightness in his blackness. He only watched. And he waited. And he floated. And the stars laughed at him from their high up and faraway place, mocking him as they shimmered and glimmered and twinkled and shone, their laughter as pure as the white lodged deep within their bellies and as piercing as the nothingness lodged deep within his chest. He longed to dance alongside the stars, but it was not for him to join them. His place was meant to be in the in between. The point between the heavens and the hells, the center of the highest places and the lowest places.

_ “You should have left him there, Suga.” _

_ “That was never an option, Tsukki.” _

_ “This is too dangerous.” _

_ “We are dangerous. He is just a boy.” _

That is where he belonged. Not with the stars and not within the ocean. Just floating. Coasting. Existing as nothing and something and everything. Time did not exist here. Life did not exist here. Death did not exist here. There was just the water, cool and bracing, enough to remind Kuroo that he was still there and not a phantom floating through the in between realm with no body and no sensation and no spirit. But he knew he was still there, despite belonging to neither the sky nor the ground. Because he ached to be with the stars, shining beside them, glowing as bright as them, for the stars were electrifying. The stars gave his heart a reason to beat, to flutter in its intense and mesmerizing beauty. The stars did not need to be told how to beam, they shone in the only way they knew how: with brilliance. From deep within. With pride.

And Kuroo became jealous.

He wanted to shine in that way. He wanted to burst with yellow from his pores, illuminating this great ocean of bleakness, he wanted to see where it started and see where it ended, and he wanted to burn again. To burn with light instead of the shame bubbling in his belly as the stars twinkled and taunted, so far away, so far out of his grasp, and still he tried. The harder he fought to escape the in between, the tighter the ocean held him in its desolate grasp. As if the waters, too, were jealous, and dared not let Kuroo disrupt the illusion of peace for the chance to tear the stars from their places.

_ “Are we doing the right thing?” _

_ “The right thing? I’ve been doing the wrong thing for years now, Hinata.” _

_ “Is this going to break him?” _

_ “It broke you, if you remember.” _

He had felt nothing for so long floating on his bed of water, the slightest whim that filtered into his thoughtless head was powerful enough to motivate him to change his experience. As hard as the ocean tried to lull this newfound power, Kuroo shied away from the emptiness this void provided him. He did not want to submit to the expectations of the water, to stay in the in between, to lay below the stars and above the currents of the sea, to remain an unwilling participant in the unspoken battle between star and water. Between high and low. The heaven and the hell. He could not lay immobile forever. His thoughts were becoming his own again and wanted to touch the stars. He wanted to tear them from their high place so far above him. They laughed with their twinkling glee, not expecting him to reach out and pluck one from the very grasp of the midnight sky, but their joy faltered when his arm was lifted from the black waters.

_ “I’m going to kill Daishou.” _

_ “No you are not.” _

Lifting his water from the black waters sent shockwaves of pain down his arm and through his spine all the way down to the base of his hips and his intention trembled. His eyes were set on the sparkling orbs floating so high in the heavens, the shining light twinkling in his hazel-brown eyes that were narrowed with determination, and his jaw set as he pushed through the ripples of pain as they tore through him. With a final outcry, he raised his back from the waters, and lurched towards the sky, fingers tangling into the bright beams of light as his hand clasped around one of the stars. But the ocean fought back. The black waters were not letting Kuroo go without a fight. And he started to sink. The ocean swallowed him as he fought against it, pain coursing through his body. And the star fought back. Shining rays of starlight burned from between Kuroo’s closed hand and soon it became to burn with the intensity of an angry and raging fire.

_ “I think he’s coming to.” _

_ “I wish he’d rested longer.” _

He watched as his hand was eaten away by the flames of the forbidden star and his head dunked under the water and all he heard was the rushing of the waves as they desperately tried to consume him in forever darkness. But despite the agony raging in his body, his hand exploded with intense light and flames, scorching and sizzling his flesh, yet illuminating the blackness of the sea. And that was enough. The agony was worth it. He saw only yellow. And he saw only white. And he finally saw nothing at all.

And his hand still ached in an unbearable way as if the flames of the angry star continued to lick at his flesh.

***

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Kuroo whimpered, his voice ragged and broken, as if his throat had been dry for centuries and raked with the claws of time. He tried to curl into himself, his whole body sore and taut with pain, but his right hand exploded again in agony. He cried out, groaning deep in his throat as he pressed himself further into the softness of a pillow that was placed behind his head.

Somebody small shushed him and gentle and curious hands reached out to touch his shoulder. He instinctively flinched away, the only thing he knew in this moment was misery, and the hands retreated, followed by the smallest apology. Kuroo’s eyelids were heavy on his face, struggling to peer through them to make out the blur of shapes and colors all around him. He tried for a while, but exhaustion pulled at him, and the ache in his hand was too much to want to move at all. So he went still, his breathing uneven and ragged, his voice ached from his screaming. The ocean was so much better.

“Are you in pain?”

The voice was clear.

Kuroo grit his teeth and nodded slowly. He was in  _ so  _ much pain. Every single inch of his body felt tender and sore, as if his muscles had been ripped and restitched together countless times. As if fire had charred away his skin and fresh skin was pulled tight and taut over his old, ripping and tearing in sections. He could not move if he wanted to, his entire right arm was hot with pain. He struggled to breathe as normally as he could, his eyes already pricked with tears due to the sheer extent of his injuries. He bit his lip, hard, so hard he may as well have drawn blood, and choked back another whimper.

“He’s in so much pain, Suga.” The voice trembled with sadness, as if he had been caught crying. There was movement and commotion, a door opening and closing. “I’ll find Asahi.”

Sugawara.

Kuroo found his eyes being pulled towards the voice despite his restraint, like something within him could not resist the enticing and soft voice of the silver-haired boy, and he strained his neck to keep his eyes down. But still they lifted. And still he met Sugawara’s cool brown eyes. The same eyes he’s looking into before, the same ones that twinkled and glistened with laughter and warmth. But the fear and terror that resided in his bones, buried deep behind the mask of pain, tickled at him, as if there was a slow burn igniting within him. Warning him. Reminding him of how truly vulnerable he was. Reminding him that not everything is what it appears to be on the surface.

Sugawara’s soft and kind eyes shone, concerned and careful, as he watched Kuroo struggle to find the strength within him to pull his gaze away. Soon enough, he was able to. He closed his eyes and severed the connection and he couldn’t tell if it was easier this way. He resisted the urge to look again, his breath catching in his throat as his chest trembled with each of his exhales. 

“I can leave, if you would prefer,” Sugawara said, his voice gentle and reassuring, yet his words were thick with shame, coated in a greasy layer of tarnished guilt. “The allure will not be as bad with the others. If you would rather I step away, it may make this easier for you.”

Allure?

But Kuroo did not want Sugawara to leave.

And yet, he knew that was not true deep within him.

Kuroo reopened his eyes slowly, his teeth grit hard, his head aching as he tried to blink through the blurriness in his eyes. He was in a simple bedroom. Dark curtains had been swept to the side of giant clear windows allowing for natural sunlight to stream in, painting the plain room in a warm glowing yellow with vibrant oranges and soft pinks trickling in as the sun began to set into the horizon. He was laying in a large bed, bigger than most of the beds he’d used at college. This bed was big enough that his ankles did not hang off the end and wide enough that his limbs could spread easily and to stretch out without fear of having to curl in on himself for the entire night. Pillows had been stacked around him strategically so that he was sitting up and his clothes had been switched out for a lightweight shirt that was cool against his chest and soft pants that he definitely did not own. Sugawara sat nearby, close enough to reach out to Kuroo to touch him, to pass him the glass of water that rested on the nightstand, close enough to remind Kuroo that he was there for him if he needed. 

A reminder of the kindness Kuroo could use to soothe his aching limbs.

And yet, he knew that was not true deep within him.

He tried to piece together the events that brought him here, into these strange clothes, into this strange bed, into this strange room, but his mind was muddled and messy. His thoughts were still full of memories of the ocean and its inky black waters as it held him in place between the sky and the darkness and the shimmering stars that laughed and taunted him. He had touched them, he remembered, held the stars tight in his hand, and he remembered the pain. Glancing down at the very hand that held the stars, the breath in his lungs filled with fear and confusion as his entire body seized with the reminder of the pain. Because it was not a dream. His entire right arm was bruised and swollen, down to his elbow, dark black bruises in the place of fingerprints along his forearm, and his wrist was bound in a splint and bandage. 

His panic rose to his throat and he couldn’t breathe nor speak. How did the stars do this to him? That was only a dream. A nightmare. A figment of his imagination, but no— instead it had brought terror and fear and the everlasting sense of dread as he stared back at Sugawara wondering when this hell would end for him. When would he wake up in his dorm room with a pounding headache as a reminder of the hangover he brought upon him? He whimpered again and began to tremble all over, his anxieties rising, flushing his face hot with heat, and his eyes burning with the threat of tears.

“What happened to me?”

Sugawara’s expression remained cool, but the guilt Kuroo could see slipping into his eyes unnerved him.

“What do you remember?”

Kuroo used his uninjured hand to wipe at his eyes before tears could fall. Crying was not an option— not right now. Not before Sugawara. Not while every inch of him ached. He shook his head, face twisting into a grimace. “I don’t know. I remember drinking with Bo— I remember talking to Hinata—”. Kuroo put his head in his hand, hiding his face from Sugawara, feeling his own shame and disappointment as he laid before the silver-haired boy, broken and helpless. So small and useless. Pitiful. Black spots began to crowd his vision and his memories slurred together, snapshots of Bokuto and Akaashi’s faces in the middle of a crowded and loud bar, plastic cups with amber liquids, their laughter filling his head up and the sense of invincibility coursing through his veins.

It was a lot all at once. His head lulled and his eyelids grew heavy, weighing on him. It was so much easier to sleep right now. Every part of his body screamed at him, the only way to silence it was by giving in to the pull back towards the ink-black ocean and its demanding waters. At least there, the pain was numb. At least there, the waters were cool and soothing.

Sugawara nodded, slowly. “You don’t have to remember it all at once. You can rest. Your body is very weak right now.”

“Right.” He was so weak still.

“Rest, Kuroo.”

***

Kuroo did not dream. He did not return to the land of the in between, where the ocean met the sky, and he acted as its midpoint. Of course, he didn’t. Why would peace find him when he could find more misery locked behind secret doors masked by nightmares and promises of false invincibility?

Kuroo found darkness behind his shut eyelids. Despite his best efforts, the stars did not shine for him any longer. He had offended them with his greed to feel yellow. And the inky waters of the tranquil ocean dared not open itself up to him lest he drown in its fury. He was standing alone, in the darkness, a chill to the air, and a wonder for what is to come. So he started to walk, being pulled by his invisible guide, one foot in front of the other, over and over, as he hoped to find what he was looking for. He realized too late that this was nothing but a ruse provided by the universe. He had taken from the sky and betrayed the water, therefore the universe took everything from him. They intended to mock him. To show him what the world looks like without order, without life, without color— they stripped him of all light.

The stars showed him what it was like without their shining.

And it was cold. And it was dark. And he was afraid of what else lurked in the shadows. 

He wandered for a long time, his injuries mended, the burning in his hand no longer present, but instead he trembled and shivered as he felt the heat of his body being pulled from him as well. He felt as if all the strength in his bones were being leached from him without his knowing, sucking him dry, and leaving him a lifeless shell of a human being. He grit his teeth and kept walking, knowing there must be an end to this lesson, knowing that he had to complete the obstacle the universe had thrown at him. This was his punishment. All of the yellow and the light in his limbs were not his to hold.

Soon, figures emerged from the shapeless darkness. It started with twinkling eyes, peering at him from the depths of the blackness. They were bright gold and a deep blue, shimmering and shining, and he knew the eyes as they peered at him, curious and longing. Bokuto and Akaashi, both watching, like ghostly apparitions, judgement on their faces.

“You left us,” Akaashi hissed, his voice deep and dark and condemning. 

“And now you’re lost,” Bokuto’s voice whispered, snaking around Kuroo’s form, ebbing his strength further, tormenting and telling.

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo tried, finding the energy to reply, his breath a mist before him. The dark shadows of his friends turned their backs and with them the world seemed colder. The world seemed to darken despite its already eternal midnight.

“You have stolen from us,” a black voice spat to him. “Now the monsters of the night are yours to play with.”

“Don’t forget to look under your bed,” another cackled, thick with hysterics, wheezing and raw. “These monsters bite to kill.”

Kuroo whirled around to find the disembodied voice but was only met with more of the void as it stretched on forever around him. He saw nothing but the abyss and it’s deepest darkest depths expanding beyond him, engulfing him, until he sat at the bottom of the ocean, with no sky, no stars, and no hope left for him to cling onto.

“Monsters?” Kuroo called out. “What monsters?”

And then he saw Hinata, manifesting before him, starting as a ghostly wisp and solidifying into a pale creature in the darkness, skin so fair it glistened and shimmered and reminded him of the stars, but he was not yellow. He was not light. He held no light at all, not even the deepest part of his eyes twinkled with life. They were amber, but cold and dead. And Kuroo felt the fear stir in his chest as his body remembered but his mind did not. 

“Hinata?”

Hinata’s mouth spread open in a twisted and wicked grin, lips peeling back and revealing a set of razor sharp teeth. His head cocked violently to the side and his eyes turned black as coal. Kuroo choked on his gasp, reeling away, and turning to flee from the monster as it glared at him. Its body convulsed violently and soon black veiny marks etched into Hinata’s too pale skin. A pair of red eyes burned into his back as he tried to flee, but every time he looked over his shoulder he was within a few feet of him, standing there, with his head tilted in an inhuman way and his mouth wide open and ready to bite.

“We can smell your fear, Kuroo,” Hinata shouted in a voice that was not his own, echoing around Kuroo as a taunt and reverberating in the darkness like a promise.

Kuroo stumbled as he ran, his heart pounding in his chest as he fell forward, crashing into the invisible ground and scrambling to rise to his feet again. He glanced over his shoulder and found only darkness staring back at him, the image of the monster in Hinata’s form had vanished as quickly as it arrived, leaving no trace of its presence. He tried to collect himself, but found his lungs did not work the way they were supposed to, and he continued to desperately suck in sharp breaths as the air continued to get stuck in his throat. 

“Breathe for me, sweet boy,” The voice was as smooth as silk, tantalizing with a touch of false kindness. Familiar. A hand touched his shoulder, softly, and guided him to look at the source of the voice. “You’re okay.”

He stared into softened eyes, striking in the darkness, as vibrant and piercing as the golden beams of cruel stars. But these eyes were not cold and dead and filled with curiosity and admiration. There was a gentle fondness in his touch as he moved a hand from Kuroo’s shoulder to cup his face and run a thumb along his jaw. His breathing trembled, but not because of the tightness in his chest, and heat spread along his cheeks as he watched the boy move with slow intention. The place where his thumb stroked burned with electricity.

“Daishou?” Kuroo breathed, so softly, so startled by the tenderness of his touch and the ache in his eyes, as if he had waiting so long to hold Kuroo in this way.

Daishou smiled, but the curve of his mouth was not wicked and twisted with evil. It was warm with wanting and longing. Daishou nodded, curling his other arm around Kuroo’s waist and holding him close. Holding him safely and securely. Kuroo leaned into the touches, closing his eyes as breathing came easy again, and the softness of his touch brought warmth to his skin and filled his form with strength. 

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” he whispered, so close to Kuroo’s face, tilting his head up to watch Kuroo’s movements, to watch his eyelashes flutter as he reopened his eyes, the gentle curl of his lips as he smiled into his breath, the flash of desire the shone behind his eyes. 

Kuroo pressed their foreheads together, breathing him in, and leaning into the closeness of their bodies.

Kuroo moved first.

Of course, Kuroo would move first. 

He was invincible in this abyssal wasteland. 

He was absolutely untouchable.

And he remembered the feeling as it surged within him, the power of invincibility, the unbreakable shield of unprecedented strength, and soon Kuroo dipped his head low to kiss the green-haired boy as he stood before him, an apparition in the darkness. A manifestation of his dreams. Daishou was the one light in this very dark land he had wandered into and he did not think twice about the threats from the disembodied voices. He did not think about the warnings from the stars. Or the promise of monsters of the night. It slipped away from him as he connected his mouth with the other boy’s.

Daishou told him he no longer had to be afraid.

So he was not afraid.

The darkness faded. And he was standing in the alleyway. The air had a chill to it. In the distance, he heard music and a chorus of voices singing along to a song. His skin started to burn in all the places Daishou touched him.

“ _ Don’t be so sad, you taste like pleasure _ .”

Daishou’s voice was hot on Kuroo’s mouth as he whispered to him. Kuroo nodded, not knowing what else there was for him to do. Daishou pressed a small kiss to the underside of his chin. A promise, a secret, something left only for Kuroo to know about as he moved to press another against the side of his neck. Kuroo’s head was spinning as he clutched tighter to the boy. The heat on his skin started to intensify, growing greater and hotter by the second, and soon it felt like his flesh was on fire.

Just as the stars had burned him. 

“ _ The pain will end soon enough _ .”

His gentle kisses ended and Daishou pulled away. Kuroo was in a daze and his whole body should have been spreading with warmth, all the way from the tops of his rosy cheeks to the tips of his toes, but it was not warmth that spread through his veins. It felt like a volcano had erupted beside him, a forest fire blazing against his flesh, but within him, a poison spread. A poison like ice, so cold and chilling, a sensation of numbness wracked his insides, and Kuroo found his breath to turn frost in the air as his breathing changed from shallow to ragged.

Daishou stared up at him with venomous eyes, narrowed and cruel. Pitch black with a devilish red shining back at him. His mouth was covered in crimson, teeth dripping with the scarlet liquid, as it trailed down his chin and stained his shirt red. He had paled, black veins pulsing in his neck and lining his face. Kuroo could not scream. All the air around him had turned to ice and his limbs had frozen over. He could not run. He reached up and touched his neck, the same spot that Daishou had kissed, and pulled his hand away to find it too was stained in blood. His blood.

Daishou’s mouth twisted into a snarl, wicked and evil, and a low growl erupted from his chest. Soon seven more pairs of the black and dangerous eyes stared back at him, haunting him, hissing and spitting like a chorus of demons risen from the pits of Hell itself, angry and hungry. And one by one the faces of his friends gave the eyes a face, posturing with tense shoulders and black veins alongside Daishou— Sugawara. Daichi. Asahi. Tsukishima. Nishinoya. And finally, Hinata.

And Kuroo remembered.

And the stars laughed at his misery.

***

Kuroo’s eyes flew open, his breathing wild and ragged, but without the same chill from the blackened dreamland. He scrambled from the sheets that bound him to the bed, throwing off the covering, ignoring the pleas of his body as his wounds screamed at him to stop moving, begging him to lay back down and rest. But he could not rest any longer, he had to leave. He used his injured hand to tear off the sheet, eliciting a loud cry to tear past his lips as he struggled to climb out of the bed. His legs unsteady and his vision fading in and out of black.

Hinata was at his bedside, startled by the sudden commotion, trying to keep up with Kuroo’s flailing and desperate limbs. 

“Kuroo, slow down,” Hinata tried, an edge of fear to his voice. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Kuroo ignored him, shoving past him and trying for the door. Hinata hurried after him, careful not to touch him lest he panic further. His hand floated by his arm, wanting to reach out and comfort his frantic friend, but deciding not to by clenching his fists in defeat.

“Suga!” Hinata called as Kuroo barreled through the door, running into walls, and pressing into his injured hand to hold himself up. Soon Kuroo was crying, but only from the white hot pain as it seared his arms. He aggressively wiped his eyes, tired of being so weak. He was done being vulnerable. His invincibility had to be generated, so he set his shoulders and ignored the agony as it tore across his body and threatened his legs to collapse underneath him. He grimaced in pain as he maneuvered through the unfamiliar house, stumbling into different rooms, finding bedrooms, and office spaces, and finding no exit.

“Hinata, I need to get out of here,” Kuroo said, urgency clear in his voice, his voice strained and scratchy from screaming. “I can’t be here anymore.”

Hinata followed Kuroo into a large living room decorated with various types of chairs and couches with a table stacked with books of countless genres and potted plants of different kinds thriving in rich colors. The room was simple and plain, well lit with giant windows which allowed for the sun to stream in and paint the floor, but now the sun had faded and only the pale white light of the moon shone into the room. Lamps offered a soft white light to illuminate the room making it cozy and inviting. The space seemed lived in and deeply cared for. But Kuroo did not want to stop to graze the selection of books which were lined in bookcases across an entire wall, or the stack that was piled in another corner of the room. His curiosity did not get the best of him this time. His drive to escape was too high.

He whirled around to find Hinata panting behind him, his joyful face twisted with distress and he pleaded with Kuroo, begging him to stop and listen. To hear him out. Kuroo could only focus on his eyes, waiting for them to turn black, for his amber to shift into a violent and dangerous red. But they didn’t. Not yet, Kuroo reminded himself. Not yet.

“Kuroo, your stitches are bleeding,” Hinata said, quietly, keeping his eyes steady on Kuroo’s face. His expression remained sad and knowing, as if he could read Kuroo’s mind. He knew where his thoughts were and why his heart raced. He knew that he was a monster also.

Kuroo’s eyes widened as he looked upon his bandaged hand in terror, a spot of red swelling onto the white gauze. He held it protectively to his chest and stared at Hinata in horror, waiting anxiously for Hinata’s form to shift, for him to transform into the creature of his nightmares— the ones with the blood red eyes and the black veins and the contorted forms. 

Hinata raised his hands slowly, barring his palms to him as a sign of peace. “I’m not like him, Kuroo.” His voice was tight in his throat, barely a whisper, thick with shame and heavy with remorse.

Kuroo stumbled further into the living room, creating space between him and the orange-haired boy. Hinata did not try to close the distance. He gasped slightly at the sound of the door being opened behind him, causing him to whirl around in fear, too afraid to have his back to the unknown. Sugawara entered, holding himself proudly and elegantly, as he gracefully slipped in and stood closer to Kuroo than Hinata could dream. His attention flashed to Kuroo’s hand briefly, and then his soft brown eyes found Kuroo’s. Not a trace of red, not a hint of the threatening clouding darkness— not yet, Kuroo reminded himself. Not yet. His expression was cool. Not a crease to his brow altered his soft and pretty face and Kuroo found himself taking a step forward, towards him, because to be closer to him meant peace— Sugawara would protect him. Sugawara would keep him safe— 

except he didn’t— 

except he was also a monster—

Kuroo fought against the desire to move to Sugawara and crushed his eyes closed, forcing himself to see the image of him in his nightmare, with Sugawara’s red and violent eyes and his bloody mouth, and his animalistic snarls as they ripped past his lips. But it wasn’t enough.

“Suga, the allure—” Hinata started.

“I know.” At the sound of his voice, Kuroo had to reopen his eyes, to look at him, to watch him as Sugawara’s curious brown eyes searched far into Kuroo’s soul and carefully assembled his next sentence. His words were thoughtful. His voice was gentle. It made Kuroo’s inside twist with desire to be near him. To be his friend. To be good for him. “The pull you’re feeling, the fascination you have, has nothing to do with the blood on your palm. I would be happy to explain to you what it means. I can explain everything to you, if you wish.”

Kuroo grit his teeth and shot a glance back to Hinata who stood in silence, the sadness plain on his face as he watched the interaction unfold. Kuroo looked back to Sugawara and immediately felt as if all of his aches were beginning to ebb away. He couldn’t even feel the pulsating waves of agony as they spread through his arm.

“I want to leave,” he said, trembling, voice raw. “I want to go home, Suga.”

Sugawara’s eyes softened even further and he nodded. He drew a slow breath, holding it in his lungs for a long while, before exhaling, taking a timid step towards Kuroo. Kuroo let him.

“We can’t let you leave.” Kuroo knew the pain as it flitted across Sugawara’s kind face. The immediate grief in response to the gravity of his words and the power that they held over Kuroo’s fragile form. It was not a promise that Sugawara was offering to his vulnerable friend. It was a threat.

Kuroo peered down at his hand he held to his chest. The blood swelled even more, but did not leak beyond the bandage. How much more blood would it take for the monsters to emerge? He shook his head, scowling.

“What happened to you the other night, with Daishou, will not happen again. Not by my family’s hand.” That was the promise. “It should not have ever happened, but it did, and for that, I am  _ so  _ sorry.” Sugawara’s jaw clenched. “You were unexpected, to say the least. And I suspected him to be further along.”

“You’re my friend, Kuroo,” Hinata said, Kuroo turned to look at him. “And I failed you. But please, listen to us, give us a chance to tell you everything.”

Kuroo saw only black eyes.

“You’re not humans,” he accused, his own words sounding unfamiliar and foreign in his mouth. “Right?”

Sugawara shook his head, solemnly. “Not in the same way that you are human.”

“We used to be, though. We value humanity. We want to be a part of it.” Hinata’s voice was becoming stronger, more defiant, as if he embodied the words he spoke and he spoke them with purpose. With dignified intention. His hands were fists at his sides and Kuroo found himself staring at him, watching him with silent envy. Hinata was invincible in this moment. He was not vulnerable anymore. “We aren’t like the others out there. We don’t want to hurt you, I promise, we just want to be around you. To be your friend.”

Kuroo tried his hand at invincibility. “What is this? Some sick game for you? To play with your food?”

Hinata’s face fell, crumpling before him, and Kuroo realized too late how potent his honesty was. Hinata had to look away, crestfallen, and he shook his head. He remembered once how his eyes shone and sparkled with earnestness, eager to befriend Kuroo— and now they had dulled and darkened. Kuroo wondered, what had he gone through to feel so passionately about his words? Behind his eyes were the remnants of emotions, too intense for the dark-haired boy to navigate them, but present enough to allow for the guilt and shame to tighten in his stomach, leaving him wishing he hadn’t said anything at all.

“No, Kuroo,” Sugawara said, voice hardened. Kuroo met his eyes and they were stormy, but not because of him. “If we had wanted to play a game, do you think you would have survived this long?”

His breath caught in his throat a chill shivered down his spine. He remembered the black eyes, but the memory was challenged by Hinata’s sparkling amber ones. The same ones that found him in the biology lab for the first time. The hopeful ones, shining with joy, twinkling with laughter— the human ones.

“What are you?” He asked, his voice quiet, looking at Hinata.

“We’re not monsters,” Hinata murmured.

Kuroo clenched his jaw and shook his head, “What  _ are  _ you, Hinata? Say it.” Hinata’s head hung in shame, at if it hurt him to speak the words into the universe. As if he too had been unable to accept this fate, spending every single day as the  _ monster _ , and not coming to terms with what the title held. “Out loud. Say it!”

Hinata looked expectantly to Sugawara who nodded, sullenly.

“Vampire.”

Kuroo laughed.


	8. A Long Night

Kuroo remembered the scene of the sparkling man standing in the forest, baring himself to the fragile little human woman, exposing every aspect of his super strength and his super speed to her. He snapped trees in his fist, crunched the earth beneath him with the lightest tap of his foot, shattered stone with a glance. He was determined to prove to her how much of a beast he was, that his instincts were purely animalistic, that he was absolutely and irrevocably the worst monster the face of the earth had seen. And the woman just stared at him with wonder, perhaps blissful ignorance, perhaps a touch of admiration, and the faintest hint of terror on her pretty little face. Bella did not care in the slightest that her boyfriend ended up being this vicious monster of the night. In fact, she found herself even more drawn to him by the end of the film, wishing with all of her restricted human might that Edward would take a bite of her neck and beg him for her own chance at eternity. And Edward was petrified by her defiance of humanity. He was horrified by how accepting she was of his secret because he knew only the other side— the side of the monster and the bloodlust he battled every moment he stood beside her.

Kuroo wondered if he held the same kind of poise the young girl of seventeen years old bore before her boyfriend’s graphic depiction of the differences between human and monster. He had seen the movie before, watched the story unravel time after time again, and with confidence, every single time, he laughed and knew with an overwhelming sense of certainty that he would be able to handle a world with monsters made for the night. And every single time, he reassured himself such a thing did not exist. He wondered if his face had remained cool and collected, accepting and understanding. Eager to embrace this new understanding of the world and fully embrace his own Edward— dark and mysterious with thousands of secrets meant for Bella to discover. Or if his face had twisted with madness and the color in his face drained as his concept of humanity near shattered and left him stranded in an empty and dark wasteland built by the monsters hidden in the shadows. No, Kuroo could not retell his reaction to the fullest extent, nor could anyone compare his experience to that of a young girl’s in a young adult novel written about a mythical creature falling in love with a human. Because this was not his love story. This was his real life. And his real life was filled with humans and monsters alike.

No, not that— humans and  _ vampires _ .

The word looped in his head so many times he lost the grasp of what the word meant. So many words looped in his head so many times he lost the grasp of what words meant. The thoughts were fragmented images from movies and TV shows, pale faced monsters with fangs for teeth, hissing and spitting. He saw them burning in the sun, charring and turning to ash. He saw them with long and frightening nails, blood red eyes, snarls for mouths, and an everlasting thirst for blood. And he saw them sparkling, shining in the sun, glimmering and glowing, sleepless monsters, and struggling to subdue their everlasting thirst for blood by choosing animals over humans. Dressed leather jackets and cool sunglasses, in flowing capes with high collars, and other time pieces. In whatever form they came, Kuroo pieced together everything he ever knew about vampires— needless to say, it was not a mountain of prior knowledge. But in the moment, grasping onto anything that could certainly be tangible in this suddenly very wide and very weird world, Kuroo tried his hardest to cling to it.

Despite all the fragments of what a vampire was constructing itself in his mind, he could not doubt the very ones who sat around him. Patiently sitting with their sleek and shiny hair, their individual brilliance, and the wise and wary look in each of their sparkling eyes. They certainly didn’t  _ look  _ like vampires, at least not the ones he had seen in films or read about in books. And when these very people— these very vampires?— transformed into their fullest potential and their eyes faded to black and their irises glowed a vibrant red, Kuroo was underwhelmed by society’s depictions of the monsters of the night. There truly was nothing more terrifying than having a pair of the monster eyes staring down at him, hungrily. But he swallowed that thought and focused on the pain in his hand.

Kuroo had moved to the couch in the living room he had recently tried to escape, a plush blanket tossed around his shoulders as he sat cross-legged on the couch, occasionally scrunching his toes as his face pulled into a grimace. His arm was gingerly being assessed by Asahi, the splint and bandage peeled back to reveal a row of stitches along his palm where the glass bottle had pierced, as well as the swollen and bruising parts of his hands and wrist, trailing up to his elbow, from where— apparently— Daishou had broken his arm. Kuroo did not dare look towards Asahi, the anxiety in his stomach twisted and churned, leaving him faint and nauseous. He was unsure of whether or not the doctoring of his injury was the cause of the lightheadedness, but he did not dare linger too long on either of the options in fear of fading to black once again. He grit his teeth hard and huffed when Asahi started to reapply a set of fresh bandages after deciding the stitches had not been bothered following his moment of sheer panic and desire to flee.

“Sorry, Kuroo,” Asahi said, his soft eyes softening even further, offering the fragile human boy a kind and genuine smile as he delicately, with careful and practiced fingers, wrapped his hand in its splint and dressings. “I’ll get you some ice for your arm to help with the bruising.”

Kuroo couldn’t help the scowl as it lingered on his mouth when Asahi left him on the couch to gather an icepack from the kitchen. He nodded his head in response, but he didn’t watch him go. He was careful to keep his eyes down at his other hand in his lap, occasionally tapping his fingers together to remind himself that this wasn’t a dream. That he was still alive. And he was sitting in the living room of a house he has never been inside with three vampires.

“Kuroo, it’s been approximately thirty minutes and you have not said a single word to us.”

Kuroo’s eyes snapped up and bore into Hinata. Hinata sat on a large oversized bean bag in one corner of the living room, his own plush blanket draped over his shoulders and tucked around himself and his legs, leaving only his head visible. His expression was tired, clearly worn down by the recent events, as he earnestly watched Kuroo. Hinata had braved Kuroo’s decay of sanity with the most sincerity, even leaving Kuroo to fetch a blanket that he carefully covered his friend with when he had gone silent. He offered a pillow and had only received a shake of Kuroo’s head, his black hair hanging shaggy and tangled in his face. Ever since Hinata had uttered the words admitting to the existence of vampires, Kuroo had been sworn to an oath of silence of his own doing.

Kuroo peered briefly at Sugawara who sat on another chair some distance away, careful of the placement of himself from Kuroo, especially when Asahi had been called in to look at Kuroo’s hand. The last thing Sugawara wanted to do was linger in a place where he was unwanted and knowing the extent of his pull on Kuroo as well as being mindful of the blood in the room, he intentionally placed himself upon a sitting chair. Similar to Hinata, he was curled up comfortably, legs tucked under him, his eyes soft and his smile kind. But Kuroo could still see the rawness of lack of sleep around his eyes. He nodded only once in Kuroo’s direction before returning to the book he held in his lap.

It pained Kuroo to admit, but the scene was so serene. The room was dark except for the warmth of the lamps being turned on provided. It was black outside, time no longer a concern to him. He wasn’t sure what day it was, if the blackness represented the evening or the soon coming morning. And there was the stale feeling of sleepiness, hovering over everybody, weighing on their bones and making their shoulders slump in an unforgiving way. And with both Sugawara and Hinata comfortably nestled in their respective chairs, Kuroo knew their exhaustion matched his own despite his many hours of unconsciousness. He yawned at the thought, earning a curious glance from Sugawara with his head dipped low from reading.

“You can rest, if you would like. We can take you back to the bedroom,” Sugawara asked, quietly.

Kuroo shook his head. Hinata huffed, clearly hoping Kuroo would have responded with words instead. Eventually, the orange-haired boy flopped back into his beanbag, being swallowed whole by its largeness and his smallness fitting perfectly within it. Sugawara chuckled, placing the book down and leaning back in his seat to watch Hinata squirm in his beanbag, fondly. Shortly after, Sugawara yawned, too.

“How do you not have any questions?” Hinata groaned, sinking deeper into the beanbag.

Asahi entered the room, his long hair swept neatly into a bun at the back of his head, and handed an ice pack to Kuroo, instructing him how to hold his arm to keep it elevated. Kuroo followed his instructions, moving slowly, staying silent and only nodding while Asahi spoke. Asahi finished treating him and stepped away, crossing his arms, and raising an eyebrow.

“He was attacked two nights ago and just found out his new group of friends are a bunch of vampires. Cut him some slack, he may be in shock,” Asahi said. “Besides, he’s handling this much better than you did, Hinata.”

Hinata sat up to shoot a glare at Asahi, his eyes flashing red with anger before he slowly lowered himself back into his seat and tossed the blanket over his eyes. Asahi chuckled, moving to take a seat on the floor beside the beanbag, using the side of it to lean his back. He pulled his knees to his chest and rested his hands casually atop them. He elbowed Hinata in the beanbag and apologized under his breath, his dark brown eyes twinkling with laughter still. Hinata huffed audibly.

Kuroo did not try to understand the interaction, he didn’t have the space in his head to carve out a section for it. There were too many moving parts, the cogs in his brain were spinning wildly out of control, desperate to function normally again. He kept trying to wrap his head around the idea that the three boys he shared the room with were immortal beings with perpetual life, gifted with super powers, and could suck him dry at a moment’s notice. There were too many questions racing through his head, too many fantasies born from fictional movies and stories to fact check, too many intrusive thoughts of images of himself lying bleeding on the floor with three pairs of blood-red eyes staring down at him. And yet, he found himself no longer trembling with fear. He found, the longer he sat in his own silence, in the space of these  _ creatures _ , the less the chill in his bones ached him. He found his fear was turning into confusion. 

Kuroo spent a lot of nights holed up with Sugawara and Hinata, their noses pressed into books and essays, griping and groaning about a specific professor they shared or the outcome of a quiz grade versus the average of the class. They spent a lot of nights sharing a couch, Hinata dramatically draping himself across Kuroo’s lap as he mourned another frustrating lecture with one of his history professors. Sugawara sat directly beside Kuroo, peering into a microscope while painstakingly counting the number of stained cells they could see. Kuroo even packed into a crowded college dorm living space, piling around a too small couch while he and Bokuto were pressed against Daichi and Nishinoya, screaming at a TV screen about something related to Love Island UK. He had been around these guys for a long time— comfortably, too. He considered each and every one of them his friend. And now, after one incident, he couldn't process what it meant to be alone with them right now, several feet away, watching and waiting for somebody to make him a late night snack.

And yet, he knew they wouldn’t. 

And yet, the dark-haired boy still held his doubts as if the darkness of the universe dug its nasty and cruel fingernails deep into his chest and never let him go. 

Rightfully— he had been attacked after all. And the images of Daishou leaning over him, covered in his own blood, continued to haunt him. 

His stomach churned and stirred uneasily and he sagged forward in his seat, whimpering and clutching at his forehead with his uninjured hand. Asahi moved to stand up to check on Kuroo again, but Kuroo waved him away. He swallowed hard and grit his teeth, searching deep within himself to find his voice again.

“I think I need to eat something.” His words were wavering and strained, but not a whisper. Kuroo sounded like he needed to sleep for another ten thousand nights, his vocal chords rubbed raw, as his voice was scratchy and uneven. “Do you have any food here?”

Sugawara laughed, lightly. Asahi moved first, but Hinata was faster. By the time Kuroo noticed Hinata had reacted to his words, he had already left the room, hurrying off somewhere in the house. Asahi used the opportunity to swipe Hinata’s seat, sighing as he sunk into its soft cushions. Kuroo smiled at the sight, even if it was the faintest tug at the corners of his mouth. Asahi was so much bigger than Hinata, towering over him, with his shoulders more filled out and powerful despite his withdrawn and shy posture. It was silly to see him, dark hair and all, nestling himself in Hinata’s chair and drawing the blanket around him. His face grew kinder and his eyes rounded out, noticeably at ease in the seat. He met Kuroo’s gaze and grinned. And Kuroo wondered again how somebody like Asahi, so gentle and timid, could be a  _ vampire _ .

“We sent Noya out earlier to get something for you to eat. Hinata is grabbing him,” Sugawara said.

“I wish you would’ve let me go,” Asahi grumbled. “I don’t trust Noya with meal prep of any kind, let alone navigating a dining hall where the meal is already prepped.”

“You had to stay back for Kuroo,” Sugawara replied, laughter in his eyes.

“Can I ask you something, Asahi?” Kuroo asked, hiding his curious expression by shielding his eyes with his hair.

Asahi nodded from where he sat. Sugawara’s worn out and exhausted expression seemed to mend before Kuroo’s eyes, creating a look of genuine interest and eagerness to, at long last, share something with Kuroo that is not just heartbreak and injury. Sugawara’s softness was heavy around Kuroo’s crumpled form, healing him, taking the cold chill of terror and misery and leaving him with a warmth in his bones he so desperately ached to have. Sugawara once promised him safety and Kuroo, in this moment, believed him to uphold that promise. Kuroo pulled the blanket closer around him, the coldness from the ice pack causing him to shiver. It was better coming from the ice than his own fear. 

“I never saw you change.” Kuroo pulled the words deep from within himself. The thought was too heavy, but if he grit his teeth enough, he could tolerate the image of Asahi leaning next to him, his brown eyes searching him, hardened by urgency and anger, however still calm and cool as he navigated Kuroo’s bloody form before him. There was no monster in him, not even in the depths of his eyes. They were crystal clear and honest. Asahi had wanted to save him.

Asahi’s mouth pulled into a subtle frown. “Are you sure you want to talk about this right now?”

Kuroo nodded. Out of the thousands of thoughts filtering through his mind, there were only a few which held the most weight. He kept seeing monster eyes, but they did not fit on Asahi’s face the same way they did on the others. 

Asahi scratched at his chin, glancing at Sugawara, but his expression was unreadable. If anything, his eyes were alight with amusement, holding his head in his hand as he rested his elbow upon the chair’s armrest. Asahi sighed.

“You should eat something first,” he said, lightly. “You haven’t eaten anything in a long time. This is a lot to take in.”

Kuroo frowned, hard. “Everyone looked like a monster. You didn’t. Why not?”

“Answer him, Asahi,” Sugawara said, his mouth pulled into a grin. “We have to start somewhere, don’t we?”

“We’re humans, first,” Asahi began to say, speaking slowly, carefully choosing his words before he said them. “We talk like humans, act like humans, feel like humans… In a lot of ways, Kuroo, we’re the same.”

Kuroo’s stomach churned and the lightheadedness caused him to sway in his seat.

“But, we are not completely the same. Not anymore, I mean. The poison in our venom breaks down the very core of our functioning. It turns us into predators. And once we’re in the presence of our prey, we transform into the ultimate hunter. Monsters,” He hesitated, waiting for Sugawara to have him pause or to stop talking altogether. It was clear Asahi had never shared this before, or if he had, the circumstances were different. Kuroo held his breath until Asahi finished. “But it’s not the same for all of us. Our sensitivities vary. Mine is very low compared to others.”

Kuroo released the breath he was holding and put his hand over his head, trying to hear the words he was sharing. Trying to formulate the words in a way that they made sense to his fragile human mind. He remembered the comments towards Hinata and how the same information broke him. He wondered, painfully, what it would take to splinter his own mind. He even wondered if it had already happened and now he sat covered in a plush blanket, before a room of  _ predators _ , completely numb to the influx of information.

“By prey you mean humans, right?”

Asahi’s face flushed red with shame, clicking his tongue, and looking faraway from Kuroo. It was Sugawara’s turn to speak. Kuroo watched him move with fire in his eyes. It was a weak flame, barely flickering, but it was all he could gather from the fragility of his body. And, perhaps, it was all he had left from the strength of his mind. Sugawara seemed to understand that, so he held his eyes. He let the flames wash over him, accepting them, as if he wished he could be burnt by them too. There was an unspoken humility shared between Asahi and Sugawara. Kuroo did not understand its source, however the pair humbled before him, weakened by guilt. 

“Humans, yes. Anything with blood pumping through its veins, truly. Which allows us to hunt an alternative prey. Animals.”

Kuroo’s glare was unwavering as his light eyes pierced into Sugawara’s. “But you have hunted humans before.” It wasn’t a question out of curiosity. It was a hard accusation. His boldness was unexpected and Sugawara sucked in a sharp breath, unsettled by the growing fire in his eyes.

“Before—”

“No, Sugawara,” Kuroo retorted, the fragility from before no longer obvious as Kuroo’s head snapped up, his shoulders tensed and set, and his uninjured hand clenched in a first. For a moment, and it was only a single moment, Kuroo was invincible. The same shield from a few nights ago reconstructed itself by scraping together all the broken pieces of Kuroo’s and rebuilding into something solid and new. It fit together differently now, his unwavering sense of being untouchable wasn’t crafted the same with his new knowledge. But Kuroo had always struggled to understand what made the Jans so different. What made the Jans just hold all the attention in a room. And this was his answer: they were vampires. Somehow, knowing this, he managed to take the power their mystery held away from them and applied it to himself. Their secret filled in all the holes his shield lacked. And he bore it confidently. “I want only the truth. Don’t sugarcoat anything. I can handle it.”

Sugawara’s expression changed and his grin grew wider, a sense of wildness flashed across his face, and a resounding understanding of what happened to Kuroo. Sugawara nodded, knowing deep within himself that Kuroo was right. Kuroo could understand it. And that it would not break him into a million pieces. Kuroo was strong enough after all.

“Very well, Kuroo,” he said. “I will only ever speak to you the truth.”

Kuroo’s breathing wavered as he returned to his previous state, slumping into the couch as his power diminished and he was once again the frail human boy. He watched Sugawara grow within himself, taking up even more space around him with his presence. His eyes brightening, glimmering with joy and unspoken pride, as if he had won an internal battle in his mind. It seemed as if Sugawara’s presence as a vampire had been muted, dialed back, drawn inward to put up a front as a regular college student. And as those walls began to crumple down before the fragile human boy, the honesty liberated Sugawara even more, and Kuroo could only stare at the ashy-haired boy in wonder and awe. He was equally desperate to be his friend as he was desperate to flee the room— such is the reaction to sitting before the ultimate predator. Desire and fear mixed together into a concoction which left Kuroo breathless and curious as he trembled in his seat.

Sugawara was as frightening as he was graceful.

And, deep down, Kuroo knew this was not Sugawara at his fullest potential. No, there was something even more complex about the way he held himself that he did not quite understand yet.

“Yes, we have hunted humans. Some of us for a very long time. Many of us have recently transitioned to a strict animal diet,” He answered, his voice still jovial and friendly. “Rest assured, we have endured the worst of the transitioning. It’s extremely unlikely anybody in this home will lay a hand on you.”

Kuroo scowled. “Except for Daishou.”

Sugawara’s lips pressed into a hard line. “Daishou joined our family a while ago. He was determined to change his ways,” he said. “He slipped up even less than some of us did during our transition to strictly animals.”

“So why me?” Kuroo asked, voice straining, faltering at the end. He was remembering the night again. Daishou’s dark eyes. His bloody mouth. His wrist in his strong hands, crushing him, taunting him, spitting cruel words in his face. “Why did he decide that he wanted to fucking  _ eat  _ me?”

“I don’t know why it was you, Kuroo,” Sugawara’s expression did not falter and it was unreadable. He even shrugged a little bit. Kuroo felt his eyes pricking with angry tears again. “But I’m glad it was. Had it been someone else, he may not have hesitated. We would’ve been too late.”

Too late?

So Kuroo had been right. In that moment, when Daishou loomed over him, face twisted in fury, seething with a dangerous violence reserved for only the cruelest monsters that hide in the shadows of the night, he had meant to kill him. He had meant to bite into his soft flesh and drink his blood until he was nothing but a shell, empty, lifeless— dead. The realization crashed onto Kuroo’s shoulders as if he had faced the weight of the world and lost, shattering beneath its gravity, and he curled into himself on the couch and fought against the tears which threatened to spill. He could’ve died. He almost did.

And he remembered, while in that moment, right before Daishou clamped his vicious mouth around his wrist, he had accepted his fate. He knew it, clearly in his mind— he was going to die. And he stopped fighting. He waited for the black waters to take him. He wanted them too. 

And all at once, the shame followed.

A great big wave of shame crashed into him, picking up all the pieces in its rough and dangerous current, and taking the entirety of him underneath the water. He didn’t even try to swim back to the surface, he just let it take him, because there was no fighting this. The shame was far, far too great.

“Kuroo, we can take a break, this is a lot all at once. We don’t have to revisit this tonight,” Asahi tried, watching Kuroo ache, alone on the large couch, so small compared to the rest of the room. So breakable. So fragile. “We aren’t going anywhere.”

Sugawara was concerned, climbing out of his seat to comfort Kuroo, but deciding against it and sitting back down. He frowned as he watched Kuroo rub at his eyes, trying to keep the tears from falling down.

Oh, the shame was so much worse. So much more unbearable than the fear.

The monster image of Daishou came clearest to him, but when he let his mind wander, when he feared death the most, he still saw him. He saw him with his narrowed eyes alight with laughter instead of rage. The softness of his hand against his own, the faint brush of fingertips along his cheek. He saw the shift in Daishou’s eyes, the change from hatred to mindless curiosity. He saw the shift as Daishou stopped pushing Kuroo away, stopped hurling insults at him, stopped pretending it was impossible to look at him—

And Kuroo had tried to kiss him.

And Kuroo remembered how close he had come.

And the shame kept building.

It was so great, rising in his chest, trapping itself in his throat, he missed Hinata returning into the room, followed by a zealous Nishinoya marching in with bags of food.

It could’ve strangled him. He was suffocating. His cheeks were red with shame, with anger for not being able to push those feelings so deep inside of himself he would never think about them again. And he knew he couldn’t. He still tried.

But he was snapped back into reality by a resounding smack landing firmly to the base of his back. Asahi gasped while Hinata cried out. Sugawara bit back a smirk and covered his mouth in pretend shock. He couldn’t think about the way Daishou’s breath had been hot on his face when a sharp pain now shot its way along his spine and into his head, causing a throbbing headache to emerge. 

“Welcome to the family, dude! I knew you’d make it out all right!” Of course it had been Nishinoya, his fierce eyes twinkling with life and joy, his excitement present in the way he held himself, as if he were almost buzzing at the fact Kuroo sat on the couch, alive. As alive as he could be following Nishinoya’s smack.

“Nishinoya, you  _ fucking  _ moron!” Hinata’s voice was sharp.

Asahi had scrambled out of his seat, horror plain on his face, as he dramatically pushed Nishinoya out of the way to get to Kuroo, his anxious hands going to Kuroo’s shoulders and back, making sure his bones had not shattered nor anything else be displaced because of Nishinoya’s stupidity. Nishinoya laughed loudly, patting Asahi’s back as he tried to check Kuroo, who slumped over and groaned into his uninjured hand.

“Don’t worry, babe, he’s fine,” Noya cackled. “He’s a tough cookie, like me, he can handle anything! I knew you had it in you, dude.” He sidestepped Asahi's reach before he could push him out of the way again and planted a solid hand in Kuroo’s messy hair and gave it a good tousle. Kuroo tried swatting, but it was useless.

Sugawara snorted. “Noya, he’s healing. Be gentle.”

Hinata was standing before Kuroo, hands outstretched, anxious to lay them upon Kuroo lest he shove them off again, but ready just in case Asahi needed him to help or something. Kuroo winced away from Nishinoya who laughed again before skipping away and jumping into the beanbag chair. Asahi confirmed nothing had been broken and frowned at Nishinoya with his hands on his hips. There was an edge of disappointment and a fraction of frustration, but when Nishinoya beamed up at him without a single hint of regret, Asahi sighed and rubbed his temples.

“I warned you to be gentle with him, we don’t want to scare him any more than he’s already been scared,” Asahi lectured.

“Look at how tough he is, he’s even laughing,” Nishinoya said, pointing a defiant finger at Kuroo. “Oh, shit, wait are you crying again?”

Kuroo grimaced and shot a glare towards Nishinoya, despite his cheeks turning red. “No, I’m not crying, you asshole.”

Nishinoya grinned.

“I’m shaking because I haven’t eaten anything and I want to sleep for another sixteen years.” Kuroo grunted. “Not to mention, I just found out all of you want to eat me.”

Hinata gathered the bags of food and placed them before Kuroo. He glanced around the room, uncertainly, and finally ended up watching Kuroo. He moved stiffly to reach into the bag and pulled out a takeout container. Even the smallest amount of effort had his vision fading and his strength depleting faster than he wanted it to. He glanced up at Hinata, who watched him with wide and nervous eyes, afraid that Kuroo would break into a sprint for the exit at any moment again. Or that he would pass out and not wake up again. The usual light in Hinata’s eyes had since faded and it hurt Kuroo to know he was the cause of that pain. To Hinata, things were so simple— Kuroo was his friend. Kuroo got hurt because of a lapse of judgement he made. And now his friend did not want him to even touch him. It was so raw and honest, so clear in every one of Hinata’s movements. He just wanted Kuroo to be okay. To accept him.

This would be his first step.

Kuroo nodded slowly and patted the spot beside him on the couch. Hinata sucked in a tiny breath, lowering his voice so slightly.

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

Kuroo nodded and tried his best to scoot to make even more space, but Hinata didn’t need it. He snatched his blanket away from Nishinoya, earning a whine in response, and used it to cover himself up as he curled up beside Kuroo. He was close enough to him that he could help him with his food container. Asahi and Sugawara exchanged a look, something unspoken, shared between the two. It was a look that couldn’t be deciphered by him, not today, not in his current state, and honestly, Kuroo didn’t care. Not with the hunger gnawing at him in a way he did not expect. He waited patiently for Hinata to open up the container and when he saw what was inside, the sigh that left his body may as well have been his entire soul.

Hinata glowered at Nishinoya.

Sugawara was silent.

Asahi huffed.

It was filled with nothing but oranges.

Nishinoya didn’t seem to notice all the attention had returned to him. 

“Well, if we’re being honest, Kuroo, I don’t think anyone in this room wants to eat you  _ less  _ than Asahi,” he carried on. “He does this weird thing where he is absolutely repulsed by blood. Which is funny because he’s the only one of us who actually went through medical school and survived a residency program at a hospital,” and he carried on. “Did he tell you about that yet? Yeah, he looked super hot in his white coat and scrubs, but eventually we had to travel again because people were giving him funny looks because he was supposed to be thirty but he still looks twenty-three… now I can’t remember where that coat went, but…”

“ _ Nishinoya _ ,”

Nishinoya blinked and looked over to Hinata, then to Sugawara, then to Asahi, and finally back to Kuroo, who stared at the oranges as if they were the most vile things he had ever seen in his life. Kuroo leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes, sinking deeper into it, willing himself to disappear once and for all. Sugawara hummed, deep in his throat, so low it may have been a growl. But it wasn’t meant to be a warning, more of a sign of disapproval.

“I told you and Tanaka, very clearly,  _ not  _ to get oranges.”

“Oh, shit.” Nishinoya gasped, but it was for the effect, instead he looked at Sugawara with his eyebrows drawn, genuinely confused by his words.

“I’m allergic,” Kuroo groaned, pulling the blanket up over his head.

“That explains why we could only remember oranges,” He admitted, tapping his finger to his chin, curiously. “Damn, dude, sorry for almost killing you again.”

Kuroo was too speechless to respond.

Sugawara sighed from his seat.

“We’re human first,” he reminded him. “And humans are fallible.”

***

The room was silent now. The only noise was Kuroo’s spoon as he, painstakingly slowly, ate another cup of yogurt. He grimaced as he worked, his shoulders tenser than he expected, and the repetitive action of lifting his arm up and down sent shivers of pain along his spine after a while. To say the least, he was miserable, but the ache in his stomach was worse, so he carried on. Slowly. Painstakingly. Bite by bite he worked, until the meal— if you could call it that, it was just two cups of yogurt and a plate of something brown and covered in gravy served the night prior— was finished.

Asahi had collected the meal for him, no longer able to trust Nishinoya to send him into the Mess without supervision, and reminded Kuroo of the importance of eating certain foods following an incident of blood loss. To which Kuroo scowled and groaned, earning a chuckle and a content sign, amused by how similar he was to the rest of the boys in the family when he put on the doctor act. Asahi and Nishinoya retired for the evening, disappearing somewhere into the house which Kuroo recently discovered was a home they rented somewhere far enough away from the campus if they ever needed to take space from the college community. Sugawara watched intently from his seat, chin resting in his palm, as he smiled at the scene unfolding. His eyes glittered the entire time, thoughtful. For a moment, he ashy-haired boy looked more at peace than Kuroo had seen before. The kind and cautious Hinata as he tried to replicate some kind of normalcy the pair may find in the Mess on a Thursday lunch, earning the occasional chuckle and smirk from Kuroo. When Sugawara was satisfied, warmed by his boys, he finally left his seat in the corner of the living room and approached Kuroo. He put a hand on his shoulder, gingerly, and gave it a reassuring squeeze, and wished him goodnight. Soon after, Sugawara floated away and slept for the first time since Kuroo had been attacked.

And the room was silent now. Kuroo sipped from a small box of apple juice. Hinata sat beside him, both boys cloaked in their respective plush blankets, and together they let the sensation of humanity wash over them. And the feeling was warm.

Kuroo leaned over, hissing slightly as the pain in his shoulder throbbed as he did so, and picked up an unopened box of juice from the floor. Hinata wasn’t looking at him anymore, staring somewhere beyond the living room, deep in his own thoughts. His amber eyes were alight, glittering in the same way Sugawara’s did, curious and kind. When Kuroo tapped his arm to get his attention and his amber eyes slid over, piercing into his skull, Kuroo nearly dropped the juice in his hands, wavered by the intensity of the look. Hinata blinked it away, shaking his head, his orange hair shaking with him, and soon a slight smile twitched onto his mouth.

“Sorry about that. I got distracted,” he admitted, quietly, unsure of breaking the silence.

Kuroo offered him the juice box, to which he accepted with a wider smile. “What were you thinking about?”

He eagerly poked the straw though the hole at the top and took a small sip of the juice, sighing happily. “About how things have changed since you’ve been here.”

Kuroo couldn’t help the pull of his lips into a frown and the soft furrow of his brow. “What’s changed?”

“We’re supposed to live in secret. It’s against our code to expose ourselves to humans. Obviously, we can only do so much, hence the existence of vampires in the media,” he said. “But you shouldn’t know this much about us.”

Kuroo didn’t say anything, he just took another small sip, frowning.

“If a human sees us as we truly are, they don’t usually live long enough to be able to talk about it to anyone,” he said, somberly, a thick sadness behind his eyes.

“Oh.”

“But, I’m really grateful that you know. Now you’re part of our family in a way. Without the promise of eternity and all that.”

Kuroo watched him for a long time as the silence followed. Hinata looked up at him in all of his raw honesty, pure and dignified. His smile chilled Kuroo, but only because the content of their conversation made his mind drift back to how close he had been to death. And how he had been saved. Humans don’t live long enough to remember that moment when they stand before a vampire. The moment between life and death, the long and cold existence between the heavens and the hells. Kuroo existed there. It was where he belonged. But only until he craved yellow.

His chest swelled with a strong emotion he could not label. Maybe he didn’t want to label it. But he nodded, understanding what Hinata was saying to whatever degree he could process. And, truthfully, he was grateful to know. It brought him peace knowing he wasn’t losing his mind all those times he sat cowering from Daishou’s dangerous glances or shying from Sugawara’s shining presence.

“All I’ve ever wanted since I was turned was to be a part of your world again,” Hinata admitted, his voice smaller, shrinking away from the quietness of the room. So soft that not a soul beyond Kuroo heard him. “And since I’ve met you, this is the closest I’ve ever been.”

Hinata’s eyes were shining, and for a brief moment, Kuroo caught a glimpse of Hinata he had never seen before. A sadness so heavy, so deep and everlasting, a desperate yearning for something he will never experience again in his life— humanity. So close, and yet, perpetually removed just from his grasp. It wasn’t with envy how Hinata watched Kuroo. It was something else.

And Kuroo understood as much as he could.

There was something very human about the way Hinata acted.

And he couldn’t say the same about the others.

“Thank you for saving me, Hinata,” Kuroo said, voice shaking. “I don’t think I’ve told anyone that yet.”

Hinata smiled at him, pressing his forehead against his shoulder. Kuroo hadn’t noticed he had started crying again, the wetness slipping onto his cheeks, glazing them.

“I didn’t want to die.”

Hinata nodded.

“I didn’t want to die, either.”

They finished their juice boxes in silence and Hinata helped him back to his room.

And the fragile human boy continued to exist, somewhere in the in-between.


	9. Where do monsters go?

It was the first night Kuroo did not dream.

When he woke up, he simply woke up. There was no great showing of his conscious, no startling awakening or jolting back into reality from the horrors behind his eyes. There was no great gasp or panicked scrambling out of the sheets. It was slow, comfortable ease back into consciousness, his dark eyelashes fluttering open, followed by a deep sigh and stretching of his long limbs. The aches and pains from the night before were still there, although shadowed by the quietness of the room and the calmness of his mind. And just for a little while, or as long as he could, he made himself small, pulling the plush comforter around himself, and pretended he was safe. He pretended this semester never existed. And his mind was full of warm things, like playing video games with Kenma at two in the morning, and racing Bokuto to the gym, and Bokuto and him trying to convince Akaashi that studying in bed made more sense than studying at a desk because if you fall asleep your neck won’t hurt in the morning. And watching movies together, and flying across the country to visit each other during holiday breaks, and spending the night at Kenma’s house during summer break, and spilling tea into laps, and sharing drinks, and laughing so hard tears streamed down their faces and words were incomprehensible between howls of laughter.

Kuroo clutched tighter to the pillow he held in his hands.

Fuck, where were his friends right now?

And his peace faded away as the burning in his injured arm reminded him of the truths he had to face. There was no more pretending. No more reminiscing. How much longer would he have to be held prisoner to this house of vampires?

Someone clicked their tongue beside him.

He rolled, groggily, over and ran his hand through his thick and tangled locks, earning a small chuckle from the throat of his onlooker. Tall, blond, a pair of glasses that sat comfortably on this bridge of his nose shielding familiar pretty eyes, and an arrogant smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. Tsukishima sat in his seat, legs stretched out in front of him casually, as if he had only recently sat down, and as if he had to be coerced into taking the next ‘watch the human’ shift. There was a coolness about him that Kuroo admired, but it wasn’t the same kind of pull he experienced with the others in the house. It definitely wasn’t like being in front of Sugawara.

“You really do look like shit,” he said. “Hinata told me you looked rough, but I didn’t expect this.”

“Do I have to have somebody constantly watching me like this?” Kuroo said, ignoring his comment and slowly easing himself upright. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes, grimacing only once when he moved his broken arm in a certain way. “I promise I won’t run away again.” There was a smirk in his voice.

Tsukishima shrugged. “I don’t really care what you do. Stay here, leave… get bit by another vampire. Whatever.” His nonchalance made Kuroo’s skin itch. “Your bodyguards aren’t home, so I guess that means you passed the test.”

“The test?”

“You’re not going to go screaming into the night disclosing this new wealth of information your stupid ass  _ literally  _ stumbled into.”

Kuroo couldn’t tell if he was joking, but based on the plainness of his voice and the intensity of his gaze as he held Kuroo’s eyes, unwavering and serious, Kuroo did not want to ask. He frowned instead, keeping his thoughts to himself. 

“It wasn’t like I asked for any of this, Tsukki.”

Behind Tsukishima’s pretty eyes, something wicked flashed, some kind of silent resentment that wasn’t completely meant for him, but the burning Kuroo felt across his face and the tops of his cheeks proved he was still bothered by it. He tried to play off his burning expression by rubbing at his eyes again and forcing a yawn, but Tsukishima’s smirk reminded him how clearly his face had been read.

“I warned you,” he said, voice lower than before. “I told you not to go to him.”

Kuroo watched him for a long time, the seriousness of his face catching him off-guard. He swallowed hard, remembered his hand on his arm, the tightness of his grip, the edge in his voice. The warning his eyes. He shuddered, remembering, and anxiously pulled on the fraying pieces of his bandage just to have something to do with his hands. Tsukishima eventually rolled his eyes and leaned back comfortably in his chair.

“Either way, what’s done is done,” Kuroo said. “And I’m here now.”

“Right.”

He cleared his throat. “So where is Hinata? How’d I get stuck with you?”

“He and Sugawara are in class. Everyone else went back to campus and I was elected to stay with you until someone else freed up their schedule,” Tsukishima replied. “Despite your flare for the dramatics, we all can’t drop the lives we’ve built here just to baby you back to your fullest potential. You’re going to have to get back to your life eventually.”

Kuroo frowned.

“We have a calculus assignment due tomorrow, you might want to start working on that.”

“Why are you actually here, Tsukishima?” Kuroo retorted. “It’s not like you want to be here.”

Tsukishima shrugged again, crossing his legs, and scratching a spot under his glasses. “Like I said, you passed Suga’s test. Whatever you said last night made him confident enough in you that he trusts you won’t either die of insanity nor report us to your local authorities. I’m only here because Sugawara told me to. And I don’t have a class until the afternoon.”

The dark-haired boy sighed. The peace he experienced previously had evaporated from his grasp and the memories of his friends vanished as they were replaced, one by one, with thoughts of the vampires. He studied Tsukishima, curiously. The way he held himself was different from the others. The natural confidence was not lost on the fair-haired boy, that was for certain, but it did not bleed from him as Sugawara did. The natural pull he experienced with all of the vampires filled him with both fear and interest, but it was not the same with Tsukishima. He did not beg for attention when he moved. With Tsukki, there was only a slight pull, a subtle fascination, but mostly a cautiousness when Kuroo interacted with him, because he was not like the others. He did not move with Sugawara as the others did. He moved around Sugawara. Carefully and intentionally. A different kind of respect.

“Can I ask you something?”

Tsukishima nodded, voice flat. “Sure, but you really should be mindful of the day. I don’t care if you decide to never rejoin society, but I will let you know I have a meeting with my professor a little bit before my class. That I will be attending, with or without you in public. ”

“Are you always this insufferable?”

Tsukishima raised his eyebrows, a mock surprise on his face. “That’s what you wanted to ask?”

Kuroo raised his hands and shook his head, frowning. “No, no. Can I ask about Sugawara?”

A thin smile spread on Tsukishima’s mouth, his nod was curt. The humor in his eyes vanished and Kuroo remembered how much he liked how honey-colored they were. They sparkled, but not in this moment. There was a heavy weight of gravity shared between them, the lightness of their comments poking at one another was an afterthought. He wondered why everything changed when he mentioned Sugawara’s name. What secrets did the pale-faced ashy-haired boy contain behind his soft and sweet eyes? What sort of power did he hold not only over Kuroo but the rest of the vampires as well?

“The way everybody looks at him… what is he?”

“What is he?” Tsukishima repeated, the corners of his mouth pulling into a frown. “He’s the same as the rest of us.”

Kuroo scowled, trying to find the best way to craft his words into what he meant. He waved his uninjured hand, grasping at something that did not exist in an attempt to manifest the right way to say this. “But he floats. You must know what I mean, the way his feet barely touch the floor, and when he moves, everyone moves also,” he tried. “There’s like the thing he does, when he looks at you, and you feel like you’re the only thing he has ever laid eyes upon.”

Tsukishima’s smile was hard. Joyless. “The allure.”

The dark-haired boy blinked, brows furrowing together. “What does that mean? Am I being charmed by a vampire?”

“Charmed? No.” Tsukishima sighed, heavily. “Do you really want to know all of this?”

“Why does everyone hesitate before they speak to me?” Kuroo snapped. “If I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t have asked. Can you  _ please  _ just be honest with me? I’m not going to shatter into a million pieces. I’m not fragile.”

A fine eyebrow raised in response to Kuroo’s outburst, then the corners of his mouth pulled into a satisfied smirk. “Don’t tempt me, Kuroo. All humans are breakable.” After staring at Kuroo for a second too long, making a small chill run along Kuroo’s spine, the blond boy nodded and his expression went rigid again. “Fine.”

He cleared his throat. “Vampires don’t often work alone. They move as a unit, sometimes they’re called clans, sometimes covens. Ultimately, they’re a family, bound together through various types of unspoken bonds, whether it be through a shared master vampire—”

“Master vampire?”

“Are you going to keep interrupting me?”

“Yes. What the fuck is a master vampire?”

“A vampire who turns others. To keep the strength of a family, or a clan, the poison is spread by the strongest onto others—”

“Poison?”

“Kuroo, please. The venom. Our venom.”

“Sorry. Go on.”

“To keep the strength of a family, or a clan, the connectedness is most heavily influenced by the source of the poison. Now, it isn’t the same for all vampires, but most vampires move with their master vampire— the one who turned them. For us, that vampire is Suga.” Tsukishima glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand, frowning. “Not all of us were turned by him, I mean. A lot of this family was. That’s why you see so many people revolving around Sugawara as if they are planets orbiting around his every move. He’s the strongest. The oldest, too.”

The pieces of the puzzle in Kuroo’s mind were slowly beginning to come together. He held his tongue, keeping silent as Tsukishima continued, not wanting to disrupt so shortly after he already had.

“There are hierarchies that exist, based on age and power. Typically, the older of us are the strongest, their venom the most potent and reliable, which leads to more vampires turned by them. But there is an element of respect involved.” Tsukishima hesitated, pondering a sticky thought he held onto in his mind. Kuroo could see a memory playing behind his eyes, his pretty golden eyes flickering with emotion. He swallowed hard. “If we did not want to follow Sugawara, we could leave. There is no true bond binding us to him. But it would be extremely difficult to walk away. Once connections are formed between vampires, severing them is incredibly painful. Rogue vampires don’t exist. There is never just one. And if there is one, they are not alone for long. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Kuroo nodded. “I think so. How old is Sugawara? Actually?”

“Older than all of us. I’m not sure even Suga knows.”

Kuroo tried to not wrap his head around the fact that Sugawara, soft and kind Sugawara, was potentially hundreds of years old. He shuddered, harder this time, and tried to look at Tsukishima with a steady gaze. Tsukishima was grinning.

“You look pale,” he said.

“Keep going.”

“And we become a family in a lot of the same ways. Brothers. Sisters. Lovers. And sometimes there is only hatred between us.” He paused again, taking his attention to the window. Kuroo wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not, but he carried on anyway. “There are a lot of reasons why Sugawara is the way that he is. There are a lot of reasons why we choose to follow him. He’s been influenced by his experience as a vampire as the rest of us have. But what you’re immediately referencing is something else. His allure is different from the rest of ours.” 

“What does that mean?” Kuroo asked.

“The venom changes us once we fully transition. It alters the way we move, the way we walk, the way we talk, the way we look. It’s part of us becoming the ultimate predators. And in order to attract our prey, to keep them curious enough to draw them in— there is a certain allure we have. A type of temptation to keep humans interested enough in us so that hunting will be easier.”

Kuroo knew exactly what Tsukishima meant. There were many moments when he could not pull his wandering gaze from members of the mysterious group of Jans, thinking to himself it had to be due to mild attraction, to stare in awe at how easily they moved, without anything to hold them back or to shame them with clouded judgements. No, Kuroo could understand the allure. He could understand how fascinated he was by the glittering of their eyes and the cool ease of their grins. And how his pull towards Sugawara was stronger than the others. He wondered how impactful his ability was back when he had hunted humans. He wondered what great advantage Sugawara had with his soft ash-toned hair and the enchanting curl of his lips. 

“Sometimes the allure is greater in others. There’s no real reason for it. It’s similar to personal strengths and speeds. Sometimes there are vampires who are simply exceptional at certain abilities compared to the rest. But when it comes to Sugawara— he’s like this with everyone. His allure seeps into the judgements of even other vampires. His allure is so powerful, so overwhelming, even for us, that we often get swept up in his pretty eyes and musical laugh.” Tsukishima’s jaw clenched. “He was made to lead. To influence. In whatever life he held before his eternal one, I think he was exactly the same. Elegant. Kind. Strikingly bold. Holding all the attention in the room. It’s his gift and his curse following him into the afterlife.” His eyes fell upon Kuroo once again. “It makes blending in with humans particularly difficult.”

“Even when I’m terrified, I want to be good for him,” Kuroo observed. “It’s like he begs for attention.”

Tsukishima nodded. “Yes. It’s the same for all of us. He doesn’t use his allure on purpose, nor does he lean into it as a weapon. He just is. It’s who he is. You’ll get used to it, especially once you get to know him. It doesn’t stay novel forever.”

“I don’t have forever to find out,” Kuroo said, absently, not looking directly at Tsukishima, but somewhere beyond him. Tsukishima snickered.

“He is good. Allure and all.” Tsukishima admitted, softer now, as if he were being reflective. “He was the best.” Even softer. “He’s done so much for our family. But I think he’s tired now.”

Kuroo watched Tsukishima, patiently, eager to inquire, but deciding against it. Whatever thought Tsukishima was chewing on seemed too personal for him to investigate. It seemed like something Tsukishima wanted to hang onto for himself for a while longer.

“He saved my life.” It was all Kuroo added. It was all he needed to add.

A subtle scowl twitched onto his lips, his nod short again. He eyed him, warily. “I think his exhaustion is making him fallible.” It was muttered through clenched teeth. “He is fond of humans. Perhaps, overly. He is too trusting of them.”

The silence that fell between the pairing was not a comfortable one. The set shoulders of Tsukishima and the tightness of his mouth had Kuroo careful of the words he chose next, not wanting to offend the blond haired boy beside him. Since he had first met Tsukishima, there had been a general sense of dislike, a general sense of smallness as Kuroo interacted with him. It was clear Tsukishima did not care for Kuroo’s fragile state, his bluntness and openness with the secrets of his family proving how little regard he held for the human boy’s sanity. But he was not expecting his total transparency.

“I’m not going to expose your family. Your secret is safe with me.” He had thought he had done right. Shared the perfect words with the rigid boy. But he was very wrong.

Tsukishima’s pretty golden eyes flashed angrily and a snarl twisted onto his mouth. “I don’t want your promises. We don’t keep humans as pets. It doesn’t end well.  _ That  _ is certain.”

Kuroo held his breath, unable to tear his gaze away from Tsukishima’s frightening glare. He flinched at Tsukishima’s next words.

“You should have died in that alley. Sugawara won’t say it out loud. He’s trying too hard to connect to his humanity. He isn’t Hinata. Suga knows this too. Keeping you around is dangerous for all of us.”

His words were hard and heavy, the gravity of them too great for Kuroo’s simple understanding. His mouth had become very dry and the urge to flee the room increased, but he did not move away. He did not cower behind his blanket, nor panic at his words. He heard them and the processing of them was slow. It was unlikely Kuroo would ever understand what exactly Tsukishima meant by his words, but Kuroo was unfortunate enough to one day unravel the truths within his statement.

“Well, you’re just bursting with positivity, aren’t you?” He wondered if the blond boy could pick up the slight waver of his voice.

Then Tsukishima laughed and Kuroo thought he liked the sound of it. It was sharp and unexpected, and somehow comfortingly familiar. Kuroo reminded himself, mindlessly, they are humans first.

“Whatever. You said it first: what’s done is done,” Tsukishima said, shoulders relaxing as he leaned forward, reaching for Kuroo. “I have to change your bandages to fresh ones. Tanaka brought you a pair of clothes you can change into. You’re welcome to do whatever you need to here before class. I guess our home is yours now, too.”

Kuroo couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at the corners of his mouth. It was a victory, at least a small one, masked by the darkness which seemed to steep into his mind at all times. A sliver of yellow. Barely a glimpse, but still the color was yellow.

Kuroo offered him his injured hand, wincing when Tsukishima began to carefully peel back the layers of bandages. It was a subtle furrow of his brows, so subtle Kuroo wasn’t sure he saw it when the blond boy examined the extent of his injuries. The bruises were still an ugly blue and purple, all the places where Daishou’s fingers gripped were clearly marked by little rounded spots. The wrist was swollen and bent in an unsightly way. Tsukishima’s pale hand was striking against Kuroo’s injured hand, his long fingers delicate and nimble as he held his hand in his own. Kuroo held his breath, unable to pull his eyes away from Tsukishima’s fine movements. He ran a finger lightly along the incision from the glass shards where stitches held his flesh together. Kuroo suppressed a shiver.

“It must have been terrifying,” Tsukishima said, absently, more to himself than to Kuroo. “Facing a vampire head on like that? I’m surprised your sanity is still intact.”

Kuroo’s voice was low in this throat, the intimacy of having his hand cared for making his cheeks flush red. Tsukishima’s eyes flickered up to meet his own, honey-golden and alive with warmth, and Kuroo clenched his jaw in response to the heat forming at the tops of his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “You weren’t there.”

“What?”

“You weren’t there, Tsukki.”

Tsukishima studied his face for a long time, brows knitted together, his usually cool expression altered by confusion. His head tilted slightly to the side. “You remember all that?”

Kuroo nodded, solemnly. He dropped his eyes back to his hand, expectantly waiting for Tsukishima to finish cleaning his hand and rewrapping it, but his hands weren’t moving anymore. If anything, Kuroo could convince himself Tsukishima was just holding his hand. He knew the tall, blond boy’s mind was working, even hidden by his glasses frames Kuroo noticed the glittering wonder behind them.

“They didn’t need my help,” Tsukishima retorted, an unexpected sharpness to his tone. He busied himself with rewrapping his hand, quickly, finishing the job and removing his fingers from Kuroo’s skin as fast as possible. A scowl had replaced the hard line of his mouth. “Daishou didn’t need three guys on him.”

Kuroo stared at Tsukishima, astonished. “You’re kidding, right? He was going to kill me. He had— he was right there— he drank—” 

“He didn’t bite you, Kuroo. He didn’t drink your blood. He wouldn’t have stopped if he had. He  _ hesitated _ . Otherwise, you’d be dead. I don’t know why he did— or how he was able to— but he didn’t need to be treated like that.” Tsukishima’s eyes were hard again, stormy and dark. “The amount of times each and every single one of us fucked up would make you sick to your stomach. The amount of lives we have taken after vowing to abstain from hunting humans would send you running, screaming into the night, with madness close on your heels. Not  _ once  _ has anybody intervened the way they did.”

Kuroo’s mouth opened to retort, but Tsukishima spoke over him.

“It isn’t fair what happened to him.” Tsukishima closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. His voice was cooler after. “He’s better than most of us. He adjusted to the new diet well. And then you came along.”

Kuroo scowled, holding his arm protectively to his chest with its new bandages in place. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the blond boy any longer. He clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times, sorting through the rise in anger which now bubbled in his stomach, brewing, itching to burst. But he was not in a place for an explosion such as that. And still he welcomed the emotion. He’d rather anger than shame.

“Are you blaming me for this, Tsukishima?” Kuroo growled, under his breath, glaring at his injuries. “I didn’t  _ know _ .”

There was a pause. A long one. And a sharp intake of breath. 

“No, Kuroo,” he said softly. “I’m not blaming you.” He crossed his arms over his chest, watching Kuroo impassively.

“It was terrifying,” Kuroo said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I was going to die.”

Understanding registered in his eyes, yet his expression was still hard. “I’m sorry.”

Kuroo closed his eyes, remembering.

He thought he was going to die.

Black eyes. White teeth. Blood. The wild, hungry look in the depths of Daishou’s blackened eyes and his glowing red pupils, as his bloodied hand made its way to his mouth, staining his chin and his teeth crimson. Kuroo shuddered, his stomach twisting with nausea. The slow spread of fear chilled his arms, catching his breath in his throat. He swallowed as hard as he could to suppress the rising sense of dread as it started in his gut and climbed its way to his throat. Soon he would begin to feel as if he could no longer breathe. And he didn’t want that. He couldn’t go through that again.

So he forced himself to think of something else.

And instead of black eyes, he saw yellow eyes. Shining like yellow stars. The same ones which burned him by their intensity. They were Daishou’s eyes. The brief care they held, the disquieting wonder when he looked up at him. He remembered touching his hand, the softness of his grip, the lightness of his fingers on his arm— a hard contrast from the grip he held shortly after. His cheeks flushed red as the shame overwhelmed his fear. Tsukishima did not let it go unnoticed.

“You truly are unbearably human.”

“Can you just shut up for a while?”

Kuroo fought the urge to huff and pull the covers over his head and instead allowed for Tsukishima to watch the redness in his cheeks worsen. He was embarrassed, both by Tsukishima’s watchful eye as well as the thought of Daishou as something softer than the monster he presented as. The monster he should have been. And in his shame, Kuroo couldn’t parse whether he was more afraid of the monster’s darkness or the intoxicating tenderness of his warmth.

“What happened to him, Tsukki?” He asked after a long time.

“North. Very North. He went with Daichi to hunt.”

Kuroo tried to hide the concern of his expression, biting his lip hard. “Is he going to be okay?”

Tsukishima’s nonchalant posture faltered, not expecting Kuroo’s concern of the green-haired boy. He nodded, slowly, and offered the slight shrug of shoulders as reassurance. “He won’t be punished for this, if that’s what you’re asking. He was forced to take space. This is common for when we attack humans. We typically hunt to satiate whatever drove us to break our oath. Then we will slowly be reintroduced to humankind. But like I said, you’re unexpected. No human lives following the attack. I don’t know what Sugawara will decide.”

“But nobody is going to kill him? He wasn’t sent North to die?”

Tsukishima frowned. “No. He won’t die.”

“But I’m unprecedented. What if Sugawara decides to kick him out of your family? Will he come back to Forks?”

“Where is this coming from, Kuroo?”

Kuroo’s cheeks flushed red once again, his brows furrowing as terrible scenarios played in his mind, all of which involved the light of his yellow eyes, the warmth of his touch, turned cold and black and empty. The thought made his heart race and his breathing catch, and it was fear once again caught in his throat.

“Nowhere. I know he almost killed me, but I don’t want him to die,” Kuroo admitted, through gritted teeth. “It was my fault this happened.”

He had never said it out loud. He had never allowed the thought to settle in his mind, his own anger and fear twisting and churning within him like some sick ocean of darkness, because how could any of this be his fault? He was the innocent one. He was the thoughtless one. Ignorant and blind to a world where monsters with gnashing teeth existed with a thirst for his blood— and yet, it was his curiosity which brought him before Daishou. It was his incessant attempts to pick away at Daishou’s nasty and bitter front. How would he have known Daishou meant to harm him? That was the hardest part, wasn’t it? Kuroo wasn’t so sure he had meant to.

His momentary invincibility made him push too far.

It was his fault. At least, some of it was.

“Daishou never told us what happened. He refused to talk about it. He just left with Daichi, in silence.” Tsukishima leaned in, his voice lower than before. “What happened between you two? He’s stronger than us, Kuroo. I don’t understand why this happened. I don’t understand how he lost himself.”

Kuroo debated revealing the truth, fearful of the amount of shame his admittance would bring. But when he looked into Tsukishima’s eyes, the same pretty honey-golden brown ones he found he liked very much, the truth seemed to pull itself out of him. He ran an anxious hand through his hair and scowled.

“I tried to kiss him.”

There was no immediate response.

The silent was so long, so deafening, seemingly stretching on and on forever.

“And I think he tried to kiss me too.”

“Oh.”

Kuroo looked away, hiding his face from the blond boy’s critical glare. Tsukishima leaned away, sighing heavily, his eyes flashing in a way that Kuroo did not understand. His expression hardened and darkened, if only slightly, and he bit back his own scowl.

“Yes, that would do it.”

Kuroo did not ask what he meant. He did not want to know. Tsukishima stood abruptly and disappeared into the bathroom connected to the room. He returned with a towel, throwing it at Kuroo, his mouth pressed into a hard line.

“Come on. Let’s get you back to your humans. I have class soon.”

Kuroo nodded, keeping his eyes averted.

***

The return to campus was a slow one. Kuroo sat impatiently beside Tsukishima as they drove back into civilization. The house the vampires owned was not too far from the campus, but far enough away, hidden behind trees and barren winding roads which were nightmares in these colder months. The pair didn’t speak to one another. There was nothing else to share and Kuroo had run out of questions. The sinking feeling in his stomach was too overwhelming for him to be able to formulate any other sentences.

Kuroo had showered and changed, his hair damp and falling in his eyes. His injured arm was now resting in a sling provided to him by Asahi. His body still ached, but he could move with a little bit more ease and comfort than before. The hardest feeling to swallow was the overwhelming sense of dread building its way from his stomach up into his throat. His cell phone had been returned to him, fully charged and somehow unbroken following the chain of events which led to him being there in the first place. He couldn’t bring himself to scroll through the countless messages and phone calls he had received. There were too many and there was no conceivable way for Kuroo to be able to parse through them and effectively respond. It had to be done in person. And somehow, confronting his friends seemed scarier than standing before a pack of ravenous vampires.

Kuroo wasn’t expecting to see them so early on. He thought he had their schedule memorized, knew exactly when they were in class, and when they were in the library, and when they popped into the Mess to grab a mid afternoon snack. So when he trudged into the Mess, followed by Tsukishima closely behind him, with the intention of grabbing something to eat before he attempted to sit in a class for the rest of the day, he was not expecting to find three pairs of eyes staring at him. Glaring at him. Piercing his already fragile form with blazing fires of confusion and misplaced rage. No— not misplaced, he deserved every ounce of anger they were willing to hurl in his direction.

Of course, they would not be attending to their regular schedule.

How could he think for a moment his absence went unnoticed for the past few days?

“What do I say to them?” Kuroo muttered, under his breath to the tall blond boy. 

Tsukishima snorted and shrugged.

He wondered what he looked like from their perspective. Emerging from the unknown with a newly broken arm, bags around his eyes from the countless hours of sleeplessness he experienced, a crease in his forehead from his furrowed brows due to the nightmares which plagued him, his disheveled appearance, his sad face. His hollowed eyes. He tried to fathom their pain, their horror, their  _ joy  _ to see him. But he could not truly know what their experience was like while he was swept away and into a new universe made up of monsters and darkness. As he walked closer to them, his friends’ eyes wide, he found himself struggling to remember what it was like to exist in ignorant bliss. And he thought he was envious of them, of their ignorance, but that was not true either.

His friends sat huddled around a small table, Kenma was tapping at his phone, his eyes busied by whatever distracted him on the small screen. Akaashi had been staring absently at a full plate of food, untouched, with his rich blue eyes glazed over, clearly lost in some kind of thought. Bokuto sat close to him, a secure arm around his shoulders, his thumb rubbing small circles into his shoulder, muttering quiet and comforting words to him under his breath, likely trying to convince him to take a bite of anything on the plate. When Akaashi wasn’t receptive, Bokuto pressed his cheek against his shoulder, hugging him close, trying to provide any kind of support he could.

Akaashi appeared defeated. He, too, seemed like he had experienced countless hours of sleeplessness as well. 

Oh God, what had he done?

Once Kenma had spotted Kuroo entering the Mess, news of his arrival spread quickly, and one by one his friends found him, eyes wide, or narrowed, and overall baffled and bewildered. Kenma watched him with his calculating eyes, scanning the situation as it unraveled around him, noting silently to himself the disarranged appearance. Noting Tsukishima as he lingered a step behind him with his searching eyes. Noting the way Kuroo’s shoulders angled closer to the blond boy instead of leaning towards the table they sat at. Noting the way, for a split second, Kuroo’s own hazel eyes flickered away from the table and across the room, as if he were looking for someone. As if he were expecting to see someone. And there was a flash of disappointment when he did not find him. The change was subtle, but Kenma noticed. Kenma always noticed.

Kuroo had not made it but halfway across the Mess to the table when Akaashi was rising to his feet. His expression was unreadable, but his movements were sharp and pointed, tearing himself away from Bokuto who hurried after him, his wild and golden eyes widened with confusion from the rapidness of Akaashi’s movements. Kuroo startled, standing still, as Akaashi moved like a whirlwind, crashing through the space separating himself from Kuroo, and Kuroo realized too late what the purpose of his frenzy was.

He thought, briefly, that it was to embrace him. To throw himself against Kuroo with relief apparent on his hard-edged face.

He thought, briefly, that it was to weep into his shoulder. An alleviation that Kuroo was safe.

He thought, briefly, that it was to hold onto his friend and never let him go. To never let him disappear into the night again.

Oh, but he was so wrong.

Akaashi’s eyes flashed with anger, an unsettling amount of rage produced from the deepest parts of his being, ripped from the darkest parts of the very fibers which created him, and his arm reared back.

And Kuroo was not able to move fast enough.

Akaashi’s fist connected hard with Kuroo’s cheek, sending him stumbling backwards, crashing into Tsukishima who held steady, grabbing onto his waist to keep him completely upright. He saw spots cloud his vision as he tried to blink they away and the taste of blood in his mouth lingered in his mouth.

“Fuck you, Kuroo,” Akaashi spat at him, Bokuto frantically grabbing onto his arms, pulling him away from the dark-haired boy as he held onto his face with his uninjured hand, tears welling in the corner of his eyes from the unexpected burst of pain. “You just  _ stroll  _ back into the Mess like nothing happened? You couldn’t have texted? You couldn’t have called?”

Akaashi made a gesture to strike again, but Bokuto’s strong arms pulled him away, using his body to block Akaashi’s as he shoved into him. The blue-eyed boy didn’t pay any attention to Bokuto’s attempts to deescalate the situation. “Woah, woah, stand down, Keiji.”

“Where the fuck were you, Kuroo?” Akaashi cried, his face twisted into an angry grimace, trying to shove past Bokuto. “Where the  _ fuck _ were you?”

The Mess had erupted into chaos. Students began to rise from their chairs to get a better look at the situation as it unfolded before them. People clamored about as they tried to see what was taking place in one corner of the dining hall. Tsukishima clicked his tongue and stifled a laugh as Kuroo staggered to regain his balance, his injured arm in the sling leaving him woozy and on unsteady feet, clumsily trying to bare his face to Akaashi. Though he found Kuroo misfortune humorous, he offered his arm for Kuroo to hang onto. The fight most definitely was not fair without Tsukishima’s assistance. Kuroo tried to plead with his eyes, begging Akaashi to stop, but the moment he saw the fury which blazed behind his dark-blue eyes, Kuroo knew to stay silent.

Bokuto struggled to keep Akaashi from accosting Kuroo again, planting his feet firmly and pushing back against him. Akaashi was not a small and fragile human boy, he was quick and agile, forcing Bokuto to keep his head about him and he desperately tried to keep Kuroo from being hit again. Kuroo stood behind Tsukishima who frowned, clearly not wanting to be a part of the confrontation. He raised a hand to his mouth and touched a small dribble of blood from where his teeth has cut the inside of his cheek, and he found himself staring at Tsukishima, waiting for him to react, for his eyes to turn black and his skin to become lined with black veins, and when he didn’t, he met Akaashi’s glares again.

“I’m so grateful you aren’t dead in a  _ fucking  _ ditch, Kuroo, because now I get to  _ fucking  _ kill you myself.” Akaashi surged against Bokuto again.

Kuroo noticed the tears beginning to well in Akaashi’s eyes.

Oh God, what had he done?

“Bo, get  _ off _ .” He shouted, trying to shove against Bokuto’s strong stance. His tone was rising with his anger, soon his voice was wavering. Bokuto wrapped his arms firmly around him, pinning his arms against his torso, but still Akaashi spat at Kuroo, from over Bokuto’s shoulder. It was relentless. It was wretched. It was hard to watch. “ _ Why didn’t you call _ ?”

Kuroo opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words. Kenma appeared from somewhere in the crowd, inserting himself between the fighting parties, holding his hands up, ignoring Kuroo and instructing Bokuto. He was cool and collected, but Kuroo did not miss the edge of frustration in his tone, the annoyance of it all, and Kuroo could not help but place that upon himself.

Oh God, what had he done?

“Take him outside, Bo.”

Bokuto grit his teeth and nodded, beginning to tear the trembling boy away, his legs unwillingly going with him as he was dragged towards the exit. Akaashi was strong, but he was not strong enough. Akaashi tried to fight back, but Bokuto’s hold was too great, and he eventually allowed himself to be hauled out of the Mess, dejected, Bokuto did not look over his shoulder once as Akaashi shouted again, his words laced with deserved venom.

“ _ What the fuck, Kuroo? _ ”

Kenma turned to face Kuroo, staring up at him with his catlike and golden eyes, narrowed, his mouth turned into a nasty scowl. His piercing eyes flickered from Tsukishima and back to Kuroo, calculating, noticing, and ultimately, judging. He knew Kenma well, perhaps too well, and braced himself for the conversation which loomed over him like a dark cloud. Kenma was angry. Maybe, Kenma was scared, too. Kuroo’s uninjured hand moved absently, holding onto the side of his cheek that Akaashi had struck. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes, and grit his teeth. Kuroo did not know many things, but he did know a few:

He had hurt Akaashi.

He had hurt Bokuto.

He had hurt Kenma.

But it wasn’t his fault. Right?

He didn’t have a choice.

Right?

Returning to the land of humans— the space where monsters did not exist and ignorance was bliss— was going to be significantly harder than he anticipated. 

This was only the beginning of Kuroo’s simple existence between realms, between man and monster—

—And Kuroo was often not fortunate.


	10. Interlude.

_ He was okay. _

_ He was okay. _

_ He was okay. _

_ Kuroo was okay. _

“He’s okay.”

No answer.

Firm hands on the sides of his cheeks, holding him in place.

“Keiji,  _ he’s okay _ .”

He trembled against Bokuto, hidden in the shadows, located somewhere far beyond where eyes could see, and whispers could not penetrate. Bokuto’s warm hands were solid on his face, hands so confidently placed. Mouth so sure of the words as they spilled out, unsolicited, unfiltered, so  _ certain. _

_ Kuroo was okay. _

_ He was okay. _

What was it like to be so certain of one thing?

Kuroo, standing, alive. Present. Not missing. Safe.

The anger he held in his chest left only a blackhole of terror as the red hot rage was replaced with something colder and emptier.

_ He was okay. _

_ He was okay. _

How could Bokuto be so certain in his words?

In his actions?

Bokuto repeated himself until the boy’s breathing slowed, the tears stopped falling, and he kissed the tender and sore knuckles of his shaking hand.

How could he move with such certainty?

Akaashi was not certain of many things. But he was most certainly certain of one thing.

For the first time, the most certain he’d ever been of any one thing.

He did not want to sit in this uncertainty any longer.

He wanted to understand what it felt like to be certain.

He closed the small space between them— the space meant for breath and hushed reassurances— and kissed him. 

And Bokuto did not withdraw his warm, confident hands— his certain hands— from the sides of his tear stained cheeks. 

Akaashi was certain of only this.


	11. The nothing before the everything.

Up here, the winds howled like ferocious beasts, untamed and unbroken, whipping with no regard for the lands, no regard for the animals, and no regard for the pair of men who sat crouched against the frozen banks of white snow. Glass-like pieces of ice were slicing through the air, cutting at the soft flesh of their exposed cheeks, leaving thin red lines against their pale-white skin, but just as soon the marks were made, they vanished as the skin healed. As if the marks never existed at all. 

It was cold. Bitterly cold. The kind of cold which froze limbs over, turning extremities blue and breakable. The kind of cold the depths of your spirit chilled and blackened and required constant kindling to ever remember the concept of warmth again. But the pair of men did not feel such a cold, dressed in dark and lightweight materials they did not mind destroying, because in their barest form, the truest part of their being, they could not become any colder.

On fast and tactile feet, the men sped over the banks of snow, hardly leaving a trace behind them, the snow as it fell and the ice as it whipped was meaningless to them as they carried on without a second thought, throwing themselves around like lightweight acrobats. Gravity did not belong to them the way it did the rest of the planet, so when they leapt, they leapt high. And when their long legs strode over the winter terrain, the planet did not wheeze or whimper under their step. To the earth, the men were harmless creatures, blessed with a light step, but to the rest of earth’s inhabitants, they were nothing but monsters masked by snow.

Black eyes, completely empty except for the piercing red which burned where the pupils were supposed to be, combed the snowy forest, haunted and hunting as they searched for their next meal. They had traveled in silence, speaking not once to one another for the entire trip, the green-haired boy constantly one step ahead of the other. Constantly moving forward, always wanting to be better, to be faster, to be satiated sooner. As if he were challenging something deep within himself, as if he were standing before the monster within himself, the same one with its own vicious and blackened eyes, devoid of all life, and devoid of feeling, and dared to snarl back at it:  _ You are not my master _ .

But to the dark-haired boy beside him, his silence was an admittance of guilt. His silence was the only evidence of the shame which hung over the green-haired boy as his hardened eyes revealed nothing, nor did the curve of his shoulders, nor the quickness of his step. The dark-haired boy ran alongside him, always to his rear, always a step behind, and always wondering what secrets the green-haired boy held hidden away behind his sullen expression.

Little did Daichi know what gruesome thoughts plagued Daishou’s mind as they sprinted across the snow. As they hurled themselves in the direction of blood, driven by instinct alone, digging their fingernails into the poor animal which befell them first, ripping into its neck, and painting the pure white terrain a violent color of red, and at the same time, staining his entire mouth as his razor sharp teeth sunk into its flesh and drained its carcass dry and empty. And Daishou continued to drink. He drank and he drank until his belly could hold nothing else. And then he drank again, forcing himself to indulge, wondering when the thoughts would satiate, the monster would quit gnashing its bloody teeth at him, making his stomach twist and churn, until finally, he collapsed into the snow. Bloody. Defeated.

“It’s never been like this before, Daichi.”

Daichi watched him with cautious and curious eyes. There was an intense kindness radiating around him, compassion masked by stiff words followed by the flexing of a cut jaw. 

“We have all lost control in our years, Daishou. You should not blame yourself. It’s the risk we were willing to take moving here. Nobody is upset with you.”

Daishou closed his eyes, wishing he could feel the magnitude of the ice cold snow around him. Instead it was only a whisper of coldness against his pale skin. An afterthought. A distant memory of what snow used to feel like. “That is not true. Don’t lie to me, Daichi. I’m not stupid.”

Daichi nodded, understanding his words. Perhaps understanding them deeper than he would like to share. “You didn’t kill him. Hinata will not hang onto his injuries forever. And Sugawara… he will forget, too. I think there is more fear this time around. We haven’t been this immersed in a very long time.”

Daishou scowled at the dead beast before him, the desire to drink a lost thought, yet still the monster within stirred, anxiously and expectantly. He knew what it wanted, he knew what it yearned for. And he could not separate himself from the monster. Not this time. Not currently. He licked his lips, tasting the remnants of the blood which lingered there, and felt the monster growl and groan in response. It did not want the substitute. It wanted the richness of the dark-haired human boy’s, the ecstasy of the memory had not left Daishou’s mind. The way his entire body shuddered at the thought… he pushed those thoughts somewhere deep down and faraway.

“If he had just kept his distance— if he had not been so bold!” Daishou cried, fists clenching so hard the muscles in his arms trembled. “I tried to keep him away from me, Daichi.”

“I know you did.”

“I tried to push him out. I didn’t give him an option,” he continued, through gritted teeth. “But Hinata is greedy. And so is Suga.”

“Careful, Daishou.”

Daishou whipped around, snapping at him with his teeth bared like a wolf to its prey, a low snarl rumbling in his throat. “They are! And you’re blind to it.” He sneered. “All because you want Sugawara to keep holding your hand and making your pants fit all tight and funny.”

A flash of anger crossed Daichi’s face, but it was gone in an instant, the only telling sign of his rage showing in the slight hardness of his voice. “Hinata and Sugawara are not the ones who attacked Kuroo.”

“I didn’t want to!” His words were ripped from his chest, echoing around the forest, as Daichi watched him, cooly, from his standing position. The monster had returned in full force and his body convulsed, fingers tightening into fists so hard he drew blood from his palms, as another growl, louder than before, echoed across the trees as well, alerting any prey within the area of his presence. He yanked his eyes away, pinning them to the floor as the shame threatened but could not overwhelm him in the presence of the monster inside. Instead, he trembled, and a growl bubbled past his lips. “I didn’t  _ want  _ to hurt him.”

“How did you manage to stop?”

“It doesn’t matter, does it?”

“It matters to you, I think.”

Daishou glared at Daichi, his form no longer monster-like and haunting, instead his dark brown eyes watched him from a space away, his mouth pulled into a frown, as he waited patiently for Daishou’s response. Daishou’s eyes were narrowed and vicious and an unnatural hissing noise sputtered past his mouth.

Daichi was right. It did matter to him. It mattered to him very much. Kuroo was evidence of his failure. Kuroo was proof he did not have control over himself. Over the monster which stirred angrily within him. And it filled him with shame. It made him  _ weak _ .

“His scent is so much stronger than the others,” Daishou admitted, quieter now, an edge of a growl still hanging onto his words. “And I could handle it from a distance.”

“But Kuroo didn’t want distance from you.”

Daishou shook his head. “He is bold.”

He remembered the closeness of his body. The closeness of his mouth. His warm breath on his skin. And he pushed those thoughts somewhere deep down and faraway too.

Daichi nodded, like he understood. “Will you be able to tolerate him?”

“I will try.” Daishou’s grin was empty and thin. “And if I cannot, I think there are loyalties tied to his humanity which outweigh my own.”

Daichi sniffed. A long silence stretched out between them, both boys not wanting to speak first. Daishou stood up and wiped his bloody hands on his thighs, turning to meet Daichi’s intense gaze. He frowned, seeing the image of the human boy behind his eyes, his tall and lean form, his black hair falling in his eyes, the same eyes which he found so easily across a room.

“I am stronger than Sugawara thinks.”

“I don’t doubt the faith he has in you, Daishou.”

The pair took off again, throwing themselves into the trees, racing over the snowy white banks. Their eyes were black, with intense red pupils shining from them. Daishou did not know what had made him hesitate when he stooped over Kuroo’s broken and bloodied form. He did not know why he was able to move so slowly, to barely get a taste of his blood, his first taste of human blood in years, and not devour him. Perhaps, he wondered, it had something to do with the shape of Kuroo’s mouth or the way his eyes twinkled when he caught him staring. Perhaps, he wondered, he held a similar fascination with humanity— Kuroo’s humanity— like the rest of his family.

***

“Why don’t you guys burn up in the sun?”

“Shut up, Kuroo.”

Kuroo winced as Sugawara pressed an icepack wrapped in a small hand towel to his bruised cheek.

“Kuroo, do you think you could go two days without getting fucked up?” Nishinoya snorted, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back in his seat.

“I don’t think it’s a good thing he attracts this kind of attention.” Tsukishima scowled.

Kuroo huffed and took the icepack from Sugawara’s hands, not being able to handle the closeness of his pretty face to his own, breathing so close to him, with his soft features pulled into an expression of genuine concern. Sugawara frowned, slightly, at Kuroo taking his job away, but respected his decision and moved back, giving him his own space to breathe. 

Ever since learning about Sugawara’s allure, he began to notice in all the ways Sugawara moved to create space between himself and Kuroo, as if he was constantly aware of the pulling sensation and what it did to his head. It made Kuroo sad, wishing he could be close to him. Not in a romantic way, or anything like that, but close enough to linger. To connect. It had to be hard for him, to constantly have to be moving, especially in a space where he was surrounded by humans for the entire day. It was clear he wanted to connect. To form a relationship beyond something superficial and baseless. And if the same allure held the same power over vampires? How lonely. Not knowing if someone’s admiration and love was genuine or a reaction to his natural pull. Kuroo dropped his eyes, because he found he was staring again. Sugawara either did not notice or pretended not to and Kuroo found it was likely the latter. What an exhausting existence.

“I think I’m just unlucky,” Kuroo grumbled, under his breath. “You took my phone, I didn’t have a chance to let any of my friends know where I was. I was set up to fail.”

Sugawara’s face twisted and Kuroo immediately felt the rising of guilt in his chest. The ashy-haired boy looked genuinely sorry, mouth pulling into an even deeper frown. “I’m sorry, Kuroo. We’re doing a lot of things wrong, aren’t we?”

Kuroo shrugged. “They’ll understand.”

Nishinoya scoffed. “You got decked, dude. Do you think so?”

“Akaashi doesn’t seem the type to become physical like that.” Tsukishima observed from his seat, farther away from the rest of the table.

Kuroos shrugged again, not wanting to remember the look on Akaashi’s face when he had struck him. The unprecedented rage, the sweet and subtle release he had when his fist connected with his cheek, and build-up of wetness in the corners of his eyes. Akaashi was afraid. He was unbearably afraid of what had happened to Kuroo and it was  _ his  _ fault. He could’ve tried harder to reach out. To at least send a text message back. To alleviate Akaashi’s crippling anxiety he knew he held onto with an unbreakable grip, and masked with his cool expression and calculating eyes.

Once Kenma had broken up the fight, he didn’t stay around to interrogate Kuroo. He made a point, however, to grab onto his good arm, hold his eyes, and made him promise to see him later. He could shudder at the memory of Kenma’s cold eyes, glaring at him, purposefully redacting any kindness he may have had for in that moment, but it was only a flash. A flicker of an icy glare and then Kenma was back. The Kenma that could do almost anything for Kuroo and Kuroo knew that he had been scared too. Kuroo agreed, but the apprehension of sitting alone in a room with Kenma, his best friend in the entire world, and trying to keep the biggest secret he ever held away from him, was nearly unfathomable. So he avoided his classes for the rest of the day and cowered in Asahi’s apartment on campus, hiding under blankets, and feeling even more hopeless, and helpless, than he did when he discovered his new collection of friends were vampires.

He kept checking his phone, waiting for a message from Bokuto and Akaashi, and one never came. He wondered if he had pushed them too far. And the thought terrified him. So he kept his phone face down on the table and pretended the blankets wrapped around his shoulders were instead shields of invincibility. He did not have much power to generate it himself anymore. It seemed every single day following Daishou’s attack the willfulness grew greater and greater within his bones. At least it was better than fear. The emptiness could at least be countered with curiosity. 

“But why don’t you guys burn up in the sun?”

“Because we aren’t vampires from the movies,” Tanaka called from the couch across the room, answering as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire world. “I never understood that shit. I like the sun. I wish I could get a tan, though.”

“We are stronger in the night,” Nishinoya shared. “Weaker in the day. Plus, it’s easier to hunt in the night.”

“I dunno, man, day hunting is pretty thrilling. It’s high risk.” Tanaka replied, laughing. “Noya, remember that one time when we chased those guys around town for three hours before they both wet themselves thinking they had gone mad? Dude, you were so good, you scaled a wall and everything!”

“Is now really the time for this?” Sugawara said, his tone still gentle and warm, as he busied himself at the other end of the table, pulling out some of his homework from his backpack. He glanced up at Kuroo, to read his face, and returned his eyes to his work when Kuroo didn’t appear to be completely unnerved by the statements.

Nishinoya laughed, slapping his hand against Sugawara’s shoulder. “Suga, you were there. You made your eyes bleed and shit, too. How’d you even do that, you fuckin’ freak?”

A coy grin twitched onto his mouth before it vanished and he was carefully watching Kuroo again. In any other situation, his mind would reel at the thought of Sugawara, soft Sugawara, hunting anything, let alone somehow forcing his eyeballs to bleed for the sake of a kill. But Kuroo did not react to the violent and terrifying comments from his peers, he stared, aimlessly, at his cup of juice, with his mouth pulled into a small frown. His eyes were glazed over and he suddenly felt the many hours of exhaustion weigh upon his shoulders.

“That sounds gross,” Kuroo said, absently. “I didn’t know you guys bled, either.”

“We bleed. And we cry. And we die, too, believe it or not.” Tsukishima scowled, snatching the calculus homework which sat sadly, blank and unfinished, in front of Kuroo. He began to fill it out, perfectly imitating Kuroo’s handwriting. “We shit, too, if that helps complete the whole picture.”

“Too much, Tsukki,” Hinata chirped from his spot near Tanaka, not removing his attention from the TV screen.

Kuroo blinked, his tone unchanging. “Gross.”

Tsukishima glanced up at him, a fleeting glance, and bit back a grin. Kuroo slumped even further into his seat. The full was full of people, of vampires, and Kuroo found himself feeling lonelier than ever. Initially, after his fight with Akaashi, or rather, Akaashi’s fight against him, the vampires had busied themselves with hiding him away and once their classes let out, one by one, they piled into the apartment to pay their respects to the newest addition of bruises gracing Kuroo’s cheek. And one by one, they fell into a pattern of normalcy, something so unexpected following the most recent events, that Kuroo’s head was no longer spinning but instead he was just circling the drain of one great big giant sink of nothingness. He was unsurprised by their momentary bursts of concern and sudden fascination with another task. They cared about his safety, and it was genuine and raw and real, and then the next moment, they reminded him how overwhelmingly connected and comfortable they were with another— and Kuroo fit into this space now. So, why would they move differently around him?

They accepted him. As he did them.

But, still, he was not comfortable. And it was not based in fear, or uncertainty, or drowning in the concept of a universe with monsters he now had to process— things were moving really fast. And there was not a place for him to turn to. The vampires were, well, vampires. And his other friends… he couldn’t face them right now. Now yet, at least. It was still too soon.

Kuroo felt stuck. And the more the vampires displayed their lives to him, their true and honest selves, the further he fell into this immovable trap. 

The apartment had slowly filled with the rest of the vampires, each nestled in their own corners of the too small apartment for the large collection of them. The table was filled by Tsukishima and Sugawara, both diligently working on homework and clicking around on their respective laptops. They were easily the most normal pairing to look at, despite the addition of Kuroo’s sad form which sat cross-legged in his chair at the table, with his heavy blankets, and his juice boxes, and his stuck-ness. Tanaka and Hinata were on the couch, flipping through TV shows, both of them with their textbooks flipped over and uselessly resting on the floor. Nishinoya floated back and forth between the table and the tiny kitchen which Asahi was wiping down, despite there being no food mess or dishes to wash. Kuroo tried his hand again at using curiosity to fill the silence in the room and inside his mind.

“Do you guys eat human food to blend in?” Kuroo sipped his juice, noticing how his fingers were trembling slightly. He quickly put the juice back down and pretended he never saw it happen. “Or do you actually like it?”

“Flavors don’t taste the same,” Sugawara replied, lightly, keeping his eyes on the screen. He began to write something down. “It’s like they are faraway. A whisper of flavors we used to know. There are some flavors I can recognize from my human life that I think I liked. Like sweetness. Candies and cookies. It isn’t the same, but it’s close enough. I like those.”

“I can’t taste cookies, but I don’t hate the texture of them,” Asahi added, looking up from his wiping of the counter. “For some reason, I’m really fond of lime. Like the lime green jello? I don’t think I’ve tasted anything better in this life.”

“But the gelatin,” Nishinoya said, leaning onto the now clean counters and smirking up at him. “Not very vegan of you, mister.”

Asahi smiled warmly at the smaller boy and reached out to brush his fingertips against the edge of his jaw. “I think I’m hardly a vegan in this life, Noya.”

“But you guys don’t need it?” Kuroo wondered, his voice shrinking even further into himself. He was afraid it would disappear too soon.

“No, not to live,” Hinata hummed. “But sometimes, I’ll make strawberry shortcake. It doesn’t taste like it used to, but sometimes I’ll get glimpses of what the syrupy strawberries are supposed to taste like. My mom made the best strawberry shortcake. She had a recipe she made me memorize when I was a kid. Every second Sunday of the month she would bake it and we’d all sit outside together and eat it. My little sister, she…” Hinata’s voice faded away. All the others were watching him with unreadable expressions. Kuroo struggled to navigate the feeling of the room as a sudden and apparent sadness washed over his shoulders. Hinata furrowed his brows and shook his head, a look of confusion and a flash of unaccepted defeat on his face. His eyes were flickering with some emotion. “Sorry. I don’t remember her right now. Normally, I can at least remember her.”

“That’s okay, Hinata,” Sugawara murmured, his cool-brown eyes warmed, fondly watching Hinata from the table. “The memories will return. They always do for you.” There was a bite at the end of his statement, a subtle edge, but not intended. No one else seemed to notice, so maybe it wasn’t with fondness the way the room watched the orange-haired boy. Maybe their eyes held envy for Hinata’s memories of humanity. He wondered if humanity was fleeting for them.

There was something very human about Hinata that the others did not share. 

Maybe, humanity wasn’t as fleeting for Hinata.

Kuroo found the weight of the sentiment too heavy to hold on his shoulders. He curled over and buried his head in his arm against the table, his injured hand laying limp in his lap. No one said a word to him. And he was grateful.

“Do you remember when we were visiting Yaku and Lev in that one French town a few years back?” Tanaka said, interrupting the silence of the space, and pulling Hinata’s attention back from whatever faraway place he had drifted to. 

“Why the fuck were they in France again?” Nishinoya retorted, now leaning into Asahi as the taller boy wrapped his long arms around him.

“Lev was on his flavor journey. He was convinced the French tasted differently than the Germans.” Tsukishima did not stop his working. “He’s fucking stupid.”

Sugawara chuckled quietly to himself, peeking at Kuroo who had not moved in the slightest.

“I miss Lev,” Hinata sighed.

“I was just thinking about how you and Lev stole all the croissants from one of the bakeries and Yaku nearly lost his head when both of you puked after eating them all,” Tanaka chuckled alongside Hinata. “To this day, I have never seen a vampire vomit more than you and Lev.”

More chuckles bubbled up across the room.

“Do you remember when Lev tossed Noya into that really tall tree and he got stuck?”

Nishinoya cackled, “Dude, that was fucking awesome.” He looked up expectantly towards Asahi whose mouth was pulled into a tight frown, pretending to ignore his lover’s eager eyes.

“It was awesome until Yaku had to come get Asahi and ruin the fun,” Hinata teased, grinning now, clearly moved on beyond whatever momentary setback which had plagued him.

Asahi groaned, “Nishinoya’s  _ leg  _ was impaled on one of the branches, did you think Yaku was going to let him just sit there? I know for certain neither Lev nor Hinata was going to climb that tree and get him out.”

More laughter. The room was light again. Sugawara was even smiling, eyes flickering with a long forgotten joy.

“We would’ve gotten away with it if Kageyama hadn’t tried helping by throwing Hinata and shattering half the tree in the process,” Tanaka howled.

And the laughter died. 

Kuroo lifted his head and found the room forcefully keeping their eyes set down and away from the orange-haired boy. Hinata sat watching Tanaka, who was no longer looking at him, his hands clenching into small and angry fists. Behind his warm amber eyes there was something else burning fiercely. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t sadness. Something else. Something darker. And Kuroo wished he had the heart to speak up, to wonder, to say anything at all, but even Sugawara’s eyes had darkened and his shoulders tensed in the most infinitesimal way, telling him to stay silent. 

Kuroo became acutely aware of the years and years of friendship, of connection, of deep unbreakable bonds, of history between all of the boys surrounding him. And he was not jealous. No, he was not envious. He was thrown further into his constant loop of not knowing where he belonged. And he felt its presence knotting in his throat making it harder to breathe. 

“I’m sorry—” Tanaka started, his voice soft, timid. Like he had broken a promise. Revealed a secret that wasn’t his to share. Crossed a line.

“No.” Hinata’s words were sharp. Unexpected. Kuroo’s chest tightened and he clenched his fingers into a fist to keep them from trembling. “It’s fine.”

No one said another word, Kuroo glanced at Sugawara whose expression was unreadable, yet hardened. Then to Tsukishima whose mouth was upturned into a scowl. None of the others dared to move, but Hinata was very much unlike them. His face was stoic and emotionless, yet it was clear by the tension of his shoulders that it was forced. He sniffed, loudly in the silence, and tried to click through the channels with a vice grip on the remote.

“Hinata—” Asahi tried.

“I said,  _ it’s fine _ ,” Hinata snapped, whirling around, eyes wide and wild, a look that if pointed in his direction, Kuroo would cower at. 

“Hinata, that’s enough,” Sugawara said abruptly. As if on command, Hinata sank back into the couch, forcibly removing his glare from Asahi. In another half beat, Hinata was up and storming towards the door, earning a soft growl from Sugawara in response to the blatant disregard of his orders. Something changed in Sugawara’s appearance, then. It was just a flicker— but he suddenly owned the room. Filling it with his presence, but not in the warm and good way. He was not  _ demanding  _ attention _ , _ he was the  _ only  _ option. There was no place else to look. No one else to hear. No one else to see. No one else to obey. Kuroo sucked in a sharp breath and flinched away from him. But then it was gone. And he was soft. And small. And light. And good.

Tsukishima noticed the dark-haired boy, somehow able to resist Sugawara’s pull, and pointed with his long pale finger to the juice box, to which Kuroo nodded, compelled, and sipped from the straw with his shaking hand. Tsukishima’s eyes never left Kuroo’s face as Sugawara chased after the shorter boy towards the door. 

Kuroo went to whisper to the blond boy, “Who is—?”

But the door swung open first and the scene hurdled to a crashing stop. Sugawara no longer chasing, Tanaka no longer cowering, Asahi no longer gaping, Nishinoya no longer frowning, Tsukishima no longer gazing. Hinata couldn’t run through the door because it was blocked by the sudden arrival of Daichi. His cheeks were warm and rosy and his eyes burned with a fresh intensity while Kuroo absently reminded himself Daichi had been hunting. Daichi had been killing. Daichi was a vampire. His head spun even more.

“You’re back,” Sugawara mumbled, and in one sweeping step, he moved past Hinata and threw his arms over Daichi’s shoulders, and curled them around his neck, tipping up onto the tops of his toes to press himself into his chest.

Daichi moved automatically, holding Sugawara back, curling his fingers into his ashy hair and pressing the faintest kiss against the side of his head. He moved so slowly, so practiced, and with so much intention, Kuroo wasn’t sure what he was watching, but Sugawara didn’t seem to notice. And he moved, too, hugging him close. It seemed so genuine, so warm, and Kuroo wondered how long they had been together. And Kuroo wondered why Hinata’s eyes were glued to the floor, his jaw clenched, and his body rigid as he waited for them to break away.

“I didn’t expect you so soon,” Sugawara admitted, pulling away, leaving his hands to linger on Daichi’s chest. 

The dark-haired boy nodded, holding his hands. “It’s good to see you, love.” Sugawara seemed like he flinched, but maybe Kuroo had just blinked at an odd time. Daichi let go of his hands and swiftly ran his thumb along Sugawara’s jaw before returning his hands to his side. Practiced. Slowly. Intentional. Sugawara’s hands changed into small, helpless fists upon his chest. “The hunting trip went well. Better than others, I’d say, considering the result.”

Daichi’s dark eyes flicked up to find Kuroo’s, boring into his skull with his new intensity, glimmering and daunting, because Daichi seemed all the more powerful. He shied away from his gaze, but he did not notice. Instead, all the human boy could notice was the nothingness filling out his limbs, reaching all the way to the ends of his fingers and the tips of his toes, until there was only a faint thumping that he only recognized as his heart because the whisper of fear loomed in the emptiness of his body.

Fear because Daichi’s return only meant one thing.

“You look well, Kuroo. It’s good to see you like this.” Daichi smiled and Kuroo did not.

“Where is he?”

The room was silent.

Kuroo’s voice was barely audible, a murmur hidden behind his mound of blanket. The juice box in his hand had been crushed and still his hand trembled. Tsukishima’s hands covered Kuroo’s own, a small frown pulling at his lips, and he tried to pull the juice box away, but Kuroo did not let him. His grip only tightened. 

“He’s in the area. He’s taking space from you,” Daichi answered, his deep voice affirmative and serious. Sugawara watched him speak with curious eyes, thoughtful and eager to learn about the events of the hunting trip. Eager to come face to face with the member of his family. But Kuroo could not tell with what emotions Sugawara anticipated the other’s arrival.

“Will I see him?” Kuroo asked, voice growing stronger, but only slightly. His voice wavered with the rest of him.

“Do you want to see him?” Sugawara asked, politely.

“Yes.” His answer was quick. Sharp. And then he faltered. “No.”

Sugawara’s eyes softened.

“I don’t  _ know _ .”

Saying the words strangled him and suddenly he was standing, throwing the blankets of his shoulders. Tsukishima moved with him, but withdrew his hands, and watched him with his eyes set in a hard glare. The room moved with Kuroo, moving towards him and away from him, as if they were circling him. Stalking him. And Kuroo could not bear it at this moment. He could not handle their vicious sets of eyes or their cautious words or their thinly veiled threats. His hands trembled, but he could not sit in this room any more. He grabbed his phone, and started towards the door. 

Sugawara reached out and Kuroo found himself leaning into the hand, but he grit his teeth and forcefully yanked himself away, eyes flashing with what would be anger if he could generate the emotion to its fullest potential. Instead, he held a void in his body and all he wanted was to erase it and replace it with something else. He was beginning to piece together what that something was. And Sugawara understood the meaning. He withdrew his hands, standing behind Daichi. One would think to find safety in his lover, but Kuroo knew it was to break up the direct exposure to his allure. Hinata moved next, trying to follow him, but Sugawara’s voice was sharp and resounding.

“Let him go, Hinata. Give him his space.”

Hinata did not move a muscle. Nobody did. Nobody dared act out against Sugawara’s orders in this instance. They watched Kuroo scramble out of the room, frantically typing on his phone, with cool and curious eyes. Nobody dared utter a word into the space as it filled with Kuroo’s ragged breaths as he grappled to string together his fragile understanding of his current world.

His friends couldn’t talk to him. Or, maybe, it was that he couldn’t find the strength to reach out to them first. The terror of standing before their angry and disappointed expressions drove him to insanity. But the vampires were unbearable. Each moved in a way that seemed so far above his understanding that he could not fathom sitting in that room for a moment longer— not with the growing sense of detachment to his reality and the heavy weightlessness settling in the farthest points of his body.

Additionally, Daishou was back. And his menacing gaze could be around any corner. And deep down, Kuroo hoped that during his distraught scrambling, he would catch the same pair of menacing eyes watching from a distance. He wanted to see them. Just to remember what it felt like.

He knew what he was doing. He knew where he was going.

And when none of the vampires moved to chase after him, he went.

**6:21 PM - KUROO - SOS. Our spot in 15?**

**6:22 PM - TERUSHIMA - Bet on it, sugarbear.**


	12. A planted seed.

Humanity was not something Kuroo thought about often.

The air was cold and the clouds threatened a snowstorm brewing. When he looked up towards the sky, his neck straining, exposing his pale flesh to the biting air, he swallowed hard at the beginnings of the starless sky. Darkness had not completely arrived and the lamps illuminated the pathway towards the library, and yet, Kuroo wondered where the stars were hiding. He knew the clouds gathered as a warning, their big and grey and black masses, canceling out whatever moonlight dared to shine through. But still, he wished for the stars. He wished to watch them shine and shimmer above him, taunting and teasing, and sneering at him as they sparkled. Holding onto their great, big, golden yellow while he held desperately onto whatever color he had left. And there was not much left for him to cling to. He wondered if they laughed at him right now.

He bristled under his coat, shrugging it closer around him the best he could without straining his injured hand, and hurried his steps towards the library as it loomed before him, shining with a radiant warmth provided behind its glass doors. He eagerly climbed up the steps and hurried inside. He wasn’t sure if it was instinctive or not, but he avoided all the places of the library his friends like to claim, and moved with a rapid pace through the rows of books and scattered seats of students studying with their headphones snug over their ears. No one cared that he was there, no one gave him a second glance. And no one even thought to look up when he slipped beyond a door labeled:  _ Staff Only _ .

He remembered the way, just down a narrow hallway, two doors to the left, and slipping past a door which was labeled in big bold letters: DO NOT ENTER. UNDER CONSTRUCTION.

He never gave the sign a second thought. When has Kuroo ever been good at following the rules?

The room was much colder than the rest of the library, and while it had been a few months since he had traveled to this hidden space, the differences were unnoticeable. It appeared as if the school had completely forgotten about its project to expand the library, opening a study space for those who favored the absolute silence and isolation compared to the rest of the building. Kuroo turned the light on, an exposed light switch built into the unpainted wall, and an assortment of lanterns strung up around the place flickered to glow, emitting a rich orangey glow. Barely enough light to illuminate the place, but just enough to reveal half-painted walls, unfinished furniture, half built bookcases barren, never before touched a book, and desolate-seeming. Empty, unused chairs. Mix-matched couches that somebody once forgot about. Shreds of different carpet colors, as if someone tried to make a decision and gave up halfway through. There were scattered sheets of plastic lining parts of the floor, some stained with forgotten paints, and others blank with full cans of unused color. Ah, the paints. Kuroo remembered the paints.

Kuroo moved carefully through the room, careful not to knock anything over, and found in the corner a raggedy brown colored couch and directly behind it was an empty bookshelf. He moved slowly, climbing onto the couch, and gingerly leaning back, careful not to bump his hand on anything, as he pressed his back against the dusty and old cushions. Just as uncomfortable and stiff as he remembered, but he didn’t linger too long on that thought. Instead, his eyes searched for the hidden space under one of the shelves of the bookcase. The reason he came here. It was only visible if he were laying down on this very couch, hidden perfectly from curious and prying eyes, and scratched into the underside of the shelf coated, in a thin layer of paint, was:  **K+T** . Wrapped in a small heart.

A smile played at the corners of his mouth as he reached out to touch the marking with his fingertips. It was a small thing, but enough to prompt his heart to beat again, reminding him of a time when he was less black and grey and more yellow. He remembered all the yellow Terushima held. And all the yellow he gave Kuroo. His breathing caught in his throat.

That’s why he was here. Hiding in his hidden spot founded by a pair of long ago lovers. There were rumors of yellow, spread all across this empty and abandoned room. And he hoped that Terushima could once again spare him with enough yellow to spread it across his entire body so that he could see his friends again. So that he could sit in a room of vampires. So that he could be strong enough to find yellow in Daishou’s eyes. So that he could feel anything beyond bleak greys and deepening blacks. So that he could tolerate existing in the in between for a little bit longer.

“Long time no see, sugarbear.” Kuroo startled at the sudden voice breaking the silence, but the second his eyes found the blond boy, his wicked grin on his mouth, and his narrowed brown eyes searching Kuroo’s form, the dark-haired boy sat up in his seat, pulling his legs up onto the seat and crossing them underneath him. “Thought I’d seen the last of you when you decided to stop texting me during October break. What happened? Did you find a new plaything and get bored?”

Kuroo rolled his eyes, hard. “Last I heard you started sleeping with that brunet. I figured the moving on was mutual.”

Terushima hummed from where he stood, hands tucked in his pockets, his crooked grin paired so nicely with his wild brown eyes, always shining as if he were constantly biting back a laugh that was lost somewhere at the back of his throat. He walked over towards Kuroo, his feet knowing all the safe places to step, and lifted his shoulders in a small shrug, always carrying an air of nonchalance Kuroo admired about him. 

“Are you talking about Bobata?” Terushima asked, smirking. “Yeah, he was fun, but that’s all it was. Nothing like you. You were fun and then some.” Terushima grinned, tucking his fingers under Kuroo’s chin and tilting his face up to look at him, but then there was a small hesitation, a flash of concern in his intoxicating brown eyes, and he found himself dropping his hand away. Then he noticed the arm. And suddenly, the wild blond boy found himself momentarily tamed,, dropping into the seat beside Kuroo, mouth pulled into a hard frown.

“Jesus Christ, Kuroo, what the fuck happened to you?” His fingers were soft, softer than Kuroo was used to from him, but it was not unexpected. Terushima was a lot of things, but he was not blindly impulsive. He had limits. He had breaking points. And seeing Kuroo, bruised, broken,  _ sad _ , he became something beyond just Kuroo’s ex. Beyond a person he could leech yellow from. He carefully grazed his fingertips across his cheek, examining Kuroo’s face, inspecting all the dark marks he had recently earned upon his body, while Kuroo bit his lip, fighting the urge to tear away with shame. His hands soon found Kuroo’s broken wrist and stared at it with wide eyes. “Did some guy do this to you?”

His voice was a threat. Kuroo found himself pulling away from him and trying to hide his face, but Terushima did not let him and held his wrist firmly in his hand and followed him with his face. His voice lowered again, even softer, “Hey, did someone hurt you?”

Kuroo nodded, his eyes averted, teeth gritted together. Terushima didn’t let Kuroo say another word if he wanted to.

“Fuck, babe,” he hissed, yanking Kuroo not so gently into his chest, holding him close, pressing his hands into his hair, not giving him a moment to object nor the space to breathe. “Holy fuck. You look like absolute shit.”

And Kuroo sat in his space, breathing him in, clutching onto the back of his shirt, twisting his fingers in the fabric, afraid to let go. To put in the most accurate, plain way, Terushima was Kuroo’s friend. On-again and off-again, they were more than just friends, but there wasn’t a lot of attachment to that side of things. Certainly, Kuroo’s friends held a lot of concerns for their budding relationship when it had begun, neither one of them willing to slap a label onto the other, nor put any effort into reaching out further than the casual hook-up and hang-out, but after a while, they accepted Terushima for what he was. And that’s what Kuroo liked best about him. There was never any questioning what he was. Or how he was. Or who he was. He held no judgements, he held no shame, he let go of the white hot fear which Kuroo grappled with seemingly every single day as it got worse and worse inside of him. Terushima did not blame. He did not hate. He was good. He was so good. And good is what Kuroo needed. He needed someone to listen who didn’t have a stake in this nightmare he navigated with open eyes and no clear ending.

He didn’t want his other friends. Not now. Not yet. He did not know what they held in regard to him.

He didn’t want the vampires. Their effortlessness, their cool stares, their constant drifting around him as if they were waiting for him to run screaming into the hills… He did not know how to exist alongside them with the growing sense of detachment from his own reality.

The deepening void in his chest.

He needed yellow. And Terushima was all yellow.

“If I wanted my appearance insulted, I would’ve gone to Kenma,” Kuroo grumbled, muffled against Terushima’s chest. But he knew that was not true. He couldn’t see Kenma. Not yet. Not this grey.

Terushima laughed loudly, shaking Kuroo against him, petting his hair fondly. “Apart from the ugly bruises, you’ve never looked better.” Terushima released Kuroo enough to look at his face, his half smirk pulling on one corner of his mouth. It was mocking and sweet enough to make Kuroo want to pretend the past few weeks never existed. “I wish I could give whoever put them there a thrashing of his own, you know? They broke my baby!” 

Kuroo chuckled quietly, shoving the boy away playfully as Terushima tried to grab at his cheeks. “I’ve never been your baby. Fuck off.”

“How is that grumpy shithead, anyway?”

“Still grumpy.”

The boys laughed together, but Terushima purposefully kept a hand on his arm. They fell into a comfortable silence, and with one flashing mischievous look, Terushima found himself climbing into Kuroo’s lap, wrapping his legs around his waist, and holding him close to his chest. Kuroo wiggled to make space, groaning slightly when Terushima bumped irresponsibly against his injuries, but made the effort to let him stay close. It wasn’t an unfamiliar position for the pair to be seated in, the smaller boy nestled up close into Kuroo, wrapped around one another. He breathed him in and he smelled like golden rays of sunshine that he would like to drown himself in. He would do anything to counteract the black poison as it seemed to fill the void in his chest with its icy tendrils.

And honestly?

Kuroo just wanted the hug.

There was something grounding about the way Terushima held him.

As if Terushima’s comforting embrace would keep him from fading away, disappearing into the blackhole which threatened to pull him in.

“I missed you,” Terushima hummed into the nook of Kuroo’s neck. “When are you going to tell me who hit you?”

Kuroo sighed, not so happily, not so sadly. A gentle exhale of exhaustion as it pulled past his mouth, fleeting and desperate to escape. Anywhere was better than being trapped inside his body as it seemed to only decay around him. He lightly ran his fingers across Terushima’s lower back and normally, it would be enough to have the blond boy unravel before him, but there was no heat in his action. No pressing desire. He didn’t have any of that any longer. Not for Terushima. And Terushima knew that also.

“Akaashi.”

Terushima tensed and withdrew, faster than Kuroo could object, to stare Kuroo in the eye. “What the fuck do you mean  _ Akaashi _ hit you?”

“I deserved it,” Kuroo admitted, quietly, unable to hide the shame as its unforgiving heat crept onto his cheeks. Terushima opened his mouth to retort, his dark eyebrows furrowed, and the wild glint in his eye hardened into something particularly scary and savage. Kuroo cut him off. “Listen, Terushima, there’s a lot of this that isn’t going to make sense to you. And I can’t explain it all. I just really,  _ really _ , need you to listen to me.”

Terushima’s eyes flashed with annoyance, but the crease in his forehead softened. He moved his hand to comb Kuroo’s hair with his fingers before pressing his hand firmly to his cheek. “You know I’ll always listen to you.”

And his words were honest. 

Kuroo nodded, leaning his face only slightly into the warmth of his hand. For a fleeting moment, the urge to shove everything that scared him far away from himself tightened his chest, but it was gone in a flash, and instead, all that remained was the nothing feeling of stuckness. He didn’t know what it meant to exist in the in-between, however, he did understand the longer he waded through it, the harder it would be to tear himself free from its bitter grasp. So he threw himself into the feeling in order to navigate his way out.

“I met a guy, Terushima,” he said, quietly, like the words might burn his tongue if he spoke them too loudly. “I met a lot of guys, really. And they’re all individually unreal. They could walk on water, turn that shit into wine. They’re all  _ good _ . Right? But there is one in particular that I can’t get out of my head.”

Terushima nodded, intending to do his part. To listen.

And Kuroo remembered black, empty eyes. Murderous red. Only red. And he shuddered, earning a small squeeze from the blond boy. 

“He’s terrifying. Whenever I’m around him— even when I’m not around him— he’s magnetic. Even when I’m not looking, I find him. Whenever I move, he moves too. It’s like we’re connected through all the electricity in the air. He’s everything horrifying and terrible about this earth, all wrapped into one, with a pretty face to mask it all. And all I want to do right now is be around him.” Kuroo’s face twisted with disgust, his mouth curling into an unpleasant scowl. “And I feel vile saying that. There is not a single reason I should want to be around him. He’s nasty and he’s mean. He’s cruel. Spiteful.”

More nodding from Terushima, who moved only slightly, readjusting himself curled around Kuroo. He was holding Kuroo’s hand now.

“And I got hurt by him,” Kuroo admitted, so softly, that he wasn’t sure he wanted Terushima to hear him. He idly fidgeted with his fingers as they poked out from his bandages and sling, glancing briefly at the bruises as they trailed up his arm. “Really bad.”

“Someone did this to you?” Terushima asked, voice barely above a whisper, as he watched Kuroo’s face with sad and serious eyes. He was frowning. Kuroo pulled his hand away from him and Terushima bit his lip to keep from objecting. “He did this?”

“No! I mean— yes, but. No,” he hissed. “No. He didn’t do this— not really. I fell on some glass and cut myself. He tried to help, but he only ended up making it worse.”

“I don’t understand.”

God, why was it so difficult to piece together his thoughts?

Why did everything seem so distorted?

“I don’t  _ need  _ you to understand, I just need you to listen.” Kuroo wished he could remove the desperation as it laced his every word. His eyes had hardened as he stared at the wall past Terushima’s eyes. “I got hurt, and he left. It wasn’t his choice to leave, I think he got pushed out, and that’s my fault. I wanted him gone, too. I wanted him so far away from me. And I was so angry and afraid. I should be blaming him, I think. Everyone else is waiting around for me to blame him, to break down and scream into the universe that he’s a disgusting monster and one part of me wants to, but the other part— the other part doesn’t.”

Terushima stayed silent. Kuroo swallowed, hard.

“But he’s back now. Before, I didn’t have a choice not to see him. Before, he was just gone. And he’s here. And his family is here. And he has to come back to his family, otherwise I’d just— I don’t want to be the reason he can’t be with his family… And Teru, I’m scared. I’m really, really scared.”

He curled his fingers into a light fist, just to make sure that he still could. That they were still there. That they were still attached to his body as his mind sent him somewhere else. Terushima clutched tighter to him, to remind him where he was. To remind him he was safe here.

“What are you scared of? That you’ll get hurt again?” 

His intake of breath was sharp and quiet. A gasp. He spoke softly, eyes glazing over. “No. No, not that.”

“Are you afraid you’ll see him again?”

Kuroo’s mouth pulled into a hard line. His words were distant, stuck on a memory of yellow. Yellow eyes. Piercing and striking. Hands so soft against his skin. Narrowed. Angry. But not angry at him. What was he so angry at?

“I’m afraid I _ want _ to see him again,” he admitted.

Terushima was silent. It was clear he was thinking about what to say next, not sure what Kuroo wanted to hear, and to his astounding relief, sweet Terushima said what came to him first. No filter. No judgement. Just him.

“What’s so wrong with that?”

Kuroo stared at him for a long time. What wasn’t so wrong with that? And he wondered, briefly, where that thought had come from. He was a monster— it was as plain as that. He was a violent, terrifying, monster who was set on murdering him. The wicked glint in his black eyes and the shining red beam as a warning sign that Kuroo’s life was about to end. A beacon of death. And the horror of that moment still lingered in his bones, a memory so distant that he could not press it if he had wanted to, but he felt the effects every shift of his body. Every pump of his heart. It was still there. Existing. Waiting. Ebbing his strength.

He will never be invincible again.

Everyone kept telling him how breakable humans were.

But what if he wasn’t?

Kuroo remembered how Daishou looked at him, before the monster had consumed him. There was a moment, brief, as quick as lightning, where he hesitated.

He  _ hesitated _ .

Vampires didn’t hesitate. The others had made that clear enough.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to want to see him again,” he answered.

“Supposed to? What the fuck does that mean, Kuroo?” Terushima was scowling now. Kuroo blinked and returned to the present moment, gazing at Terushima’s dark eyes, glinting with his wild yellow fire. “Last I checked, you were allowed to do whatever— and whoever— the fuck you want.”

“This isn’t just about the one guy. It’s about all of them. It’s about all of those perfect, pretty bastards who seem like nothing on the planet could break them down. They’re so  _ unbearably _ unbreakable. Even when shit happens— really bad shit, Terushima— they are able to just  _ move on _ . There’s this immeasurable pressure I’m carrying around with me to stand beside them, to hold this overwhelming weight on my shoulders and just  _ be okay _ with who they are, with what they are, and then there’s this massive pressure to have it crush me. To completely shatter underneath it all. And I don’t know which choice sounds easier. I don’t know what exactly they want from me. Or who I am to them.” Kuroo’s voice began to strengthen, to fill the silent and unused room, and for just a second, the dark-haired boy thought that perhaps he could be rebuilt again. But it was passing.

And yet, the seed was planted anyway.

Terushima’s brows furrowed, puzzled. He was trying so hopelessly to piece together Kuroo’s words into some kind of story to make sense of in his mind. But he remembered his role in this interaction, and begrudgingly, accepted it. He continued to listen, but he was not going to stay silent.

“Kuroo,” Terushima uncurled himself from Kuroo even more, creating enough space between them to be able to place both hands on his shoulders, gingerly at first, but soon squeezing them hard. Kuroo’s eyes widened slightly, surprised by the gesture, and started to wiggle away, but Terushima did not let him. “Shut the fuck up for thirty seconds, it’s my turn.”

Kuroo bit back his grin and nodded.

“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, and that’s okay. I don’t care. I don’t need the details, and based on what you’ve shared, I’m not going to get the details. And I still don’t care. But what I do care about is you,” he said. “And you’re not acting like yourself right now.”

Kuroo wanted to look away. The shame had come back. All at once and all over his body. At least it was something. How pitiful. How weak. How very  _ human  _ of him. He forced his stare to stay steady on Terushima’s pretty face.

“When have you ever done anything that you were  _ supposed  _ to do? In all our time together, not once have you ever done anything based on the fact alone that it was  _ expected  _ of you? I don’t like this new look of yours,” he continued, his nose curling as he gestured towards Kuroo with a flick of his wrist. “You reek of self-doubt, babe. I can see it all over your face. Why don’t you say fuck all to those pretty boys and just do whatever you want? What would be the worst that could happen?”

Kuroo scowled. “It isn’t just those boys. I fucked up with everyone. I fucked up with Akaashi. And Kenma. Everyone.”

Terushima stared at him for a long time. Suddenly, he swatted at him, smacking his shoulder. Kuroo startled, blinking rapidly, put off by his sudden assault. Terushima’s brows furrowed even more and he smacked his shoulder again.

“Why does everyone keep hitting me?” Kuroo cried, bewildered, trying to grab at Terushima’s hand to keep him from smacking him again. “Fuck, you’re like, the fourth person in three days.”

“Because you’re a fucking idiot. Shut the fuck up, you haven’t fucked anything up with them. Are you kidding? Akaashi and Kenma would commit murder for you. When you broke your wrist did you also happen to fucking lose all of your brain cells, too?” Terushima snapped at him, sounding more and more like an authoritative figure than Kuroo was expecting. He couldn’t help the small smirk as it pulled at his mouth. Kuroo should have expected this from his boy. “Don’t fucking look at me like that, you asshole.”

His best boy.

The most yellow.

“I disappeared and didn’t tell them where I was.”

“Well, yeah, I’d fucking kick your ass too, but fuck, you didn’t fuck anything up with them. You probably just scared them a little bit,” he retorted. “And if you actually fucked everything up with them, then maybe they aren’t the guys I thought they were.”

Kuroo frowned. He opened his mouth to retort, but Terushina didn’t let him, clamping his hand over his mouth and raising his other hand to his lips, shushing him.

“Nope, you lost your turn. Shut the fuck up. You may be super hot, but you’re super stupid.”

Kuroo glared at him.

“I don’t want to hear about what you think you’re supposed to be doing right now. Fuck, I cannot even believe you’re whining about other people’s expectations… Whatever. The next thing that comes out of your mouth, I want it to be either a declaration of your love for me, or I want it to be something that you want. Something that you really, really want. Not what you’re supposed to want. Or what you’re pressured to want. Or what those pretty bastards want. Tell me what  _ you _ want.”

The dark-haired boy did not have to think about his answer. The words were on his tongue, threatening to spill out, but he held them back because he wished to let them linger there. To let them sit with him while he wondered what they meant. Because they were not the words he had expected to come.

_ I want to see Daishou _ .

And it made his stomach churn with fear, with excitement, with surprise… what did it all mean?

He should hate him. He should be terrified. He should be dead— by his hands.

But he wasn’t.

And he didn’t.

Why had Daishou hesitated?

Terushima returned him from his thoughts by touching his face again. Softer than before, but enough to catch his eyes. His brown, so sad eyes, with a touch of redness which was sure to be bruised by now. He was still waiting for Kuroo’s response, but Kuroo knew he didn’t have to say a word, because Terushima’s eyes were sparkling, knowingly. He could read him like a book— Terushima was always able to do that. He always knew what he needed. Terushima’s thumb grazed Kuroo’s lower lip, but the dark-haired boy’s breath remained his own as he watched him, sadly. Kuroo opened his mouth to protest, to stop Terushima before he could make another move, but Terushima beat him to it. Always half a step ahead of him. Always knowing what to do and when to do it. Moving without regard to anybody else. Kuroo wished he held that confidence— the same confidence he had before with his shield of invincibly drawn tightly around him. He was once untouchable.

“Teru—”

And before Kuroo could move away, Terushima leaned into him, pressing his lips against his, lightly. Chastely.

“Sorry, Kuroo,” he said, cheekily, an arrogant smirk on his mouth. “Thought I’d give it one more go before I was never yours again.”

A sharp chill ran along Kuroo’s spine, but he did not know why. Not yet. Oh, but he wanted to know so badly. What was never to a human after all?

Terushima stroked his cheek with his thumb before moving away completely. Kuroo frowned, but he was not upset. He was not bothered by the kiss. He did not feel any certain way at all, but it was not the same as before, when he sat in that room surrounded by the vampires. It was so desolate. It was not unbearable. The gaping hole in his chest, expanding and filling the rest of his body, had suddenly ceased its destruction. The void of nothingness no longer weighed on his limbs and ate away at his sanity. The stuckness had passed, just as he had hoped it would with Terushima. And he noticed, so faintly, deep in the darkest parts of his body, the farthest, most lonesome parts of his soul, a hint of yellow as it touched him for the first time. And it thawed all the frozen parts within him to a point where the small seed which had been planted previously had enough strength to finally whisper to him. To remind him. To urge him:

_ You can be rebuilt _ .

“So tell me, what’s so great about this new dude of yours?” Terushima hummed, spinning away from Kuroo so that his back was now to him, forcing himself into Kuroo’s chest so that he had to hold him now. And Kuroo did, without complaint, absently petting his messy blond hair as he tucked his chin atop his head. He chuckled in response. “He can’t be that great if he tried to help you with your broken arm and somehow made it worse.”

“Oh, he’s terrible, Terushima. You would hate him,” Kuroo said, softly, a small smile on his lips.

“I already do,” he grumbled. “He sounds like a piece of shit. Worse than Akaashi.”

“Be nice,” Kuroo warned. “He’s definitely much worse than Akaashi. But they’re two for two in leaving bruises on me.”

Terushima mocked him in a high-pitched voice, then stuck his tongue out, huffing dramatically, snatching Kuroo’s hand from his hair and forcing it into his chest, nuzzling his arm as it draped over him now. Kuroo laughed and held him a little bit closer.

_ He can be rebuilt _ .

***

When he knocked on the door to Kenma’s dorm room as the clock edged closer to midnight and did not get a response, he knew immediately what his next steps were. There was not a single doubt in his mind that after the kind of day his friends had experienced, with the misery attached to his betrayal, his sudden return, and the aftereffects of a physical (one-sided) altercation, Kuroo knew where Kenma would be. Bokuto most likely demanded another one of his sad-boy sleepovers. Perhaps, not by his own desire, but nevertheless, Kenma would go. Because that’s the kind of friend he was. The kind of friend Kuroo never should have doubted. Kenma would show up when the time was right.

Kenma would always show up.

Kuroo found himself knocking on Bokuto’s apartment door. When there was no immediate rustle, no sound of the TV, no hushed conversation on the other side, for a moment the doubt crept into his mind. Was he wrong about this too? Could he handle another blow? But as he began to turn around, to head back to his own room to finally rest, the door slowly creaked open.

And yellow, cat-like eyes peered at him. They widened slightly before they narrowed.

“Kenma,” he breathed, unable to fight the sudden surge of relief as it rushed through him, and he stumbled towards him, pushing past him and into the room. He wrapped his arms, as best he could, around his small form, crushing him against him. Kenma moved with a small  _ hmmpf. _

There was a brief moment when Kuroo was afraid that he’d shove him off of him, hurling insults at him, cursing his name, but he struck the thought and buried his face in Kenma’s hair. Kuroo knew Kenma wouldn’t do something like that. And he was right. He didn’t push him away. His arms hung limply at his sides, and after realizing he wasn’t going to be let go, Kenma patted Kuroo’s back.

“I missed you,” Kuroo mumbled into his hair.

“Can you let go of me?”

“Not yet,” Kuroo held him even tighter, earning a small sigh in response from the shorter boy.

“Kuroo?”

Kuroo lifted his head from his hug and peered into the apartment. It was all as he had expected from one of Bokuto’s sad-boy sleepovers. The lights were low and there was a TV running in the background with its sound muted, likely because Bokuto was lounging on the couch covered in blankets, and topped with a very soundly asleep Akaashi, resting peacefully against his chest. Bokuto wasn’t going to let any TV noise accidentally wake him up. How long have they been sitting in silence for him? Kuroo noticed the small made-up pallet on the floor with the pile of blankets and pillows seemingly meant for Kenma while the couch was occupied. Kuroo glanced to Kenma who peered up at him with his large rounded eyes and a sly smirk on his mouth. Akaashi seemed pretty comfortable there… Oh.

Oh.

_ Oh _ .

_ “ _ Did they—”

Kenma shushed him, but his eyes twinkled, as he waved him inside.

Bokuto’s shining golden eyes were wide with astonishment to see Kuroo casually strolling into his apartment, his face only slightly bashful. The flush at the tops of his cheeks were mostly due to the situation on the couch, but Kuroo wouldn’t let him know that. Suddenly, a smile broke out on his face, and Kuroo felt the heat on his cheeks burn even harder.

It was good to see Bo like this. Happy. Beaming.

“Hey Bokuto,” Kuroo muttered, waving his hand shyly at him. “Sorry about all this.”

Bokuto started to laugh but stifled it quickly, tightening his arms around Akaashi in efforts to keep him from waking. The other boy stirred, made a soft sleep noise, and stilled once again. He grinned widely. “I think I’ll be alright. I’m glad you’re okay though. Akaashi got a nasty one on you before I could catch him.”

The dark-haired boy absently touched his face, his smile thinning, but only barely. “I deserved it. I shouldn’t have done that to him.”

Kenma sniffed and found himself back in his puddle of blankets, clicking off of whatever game he had been playing before Kuroo had arrived, and putting it away. He returned his vigilant gaze back to Kuroo, without the distraction of his electronics, and the dark-haired boy knew this was his moment. His moment to reconnect with his friends. And he was going to do it without doubting himself. He was going to do it his way. And deep down, he knew his friends were going to be okay with that too.

“Where’ve you been all day?” Kenma said, his voice soft. “I thought I’d see you earlier. I was going to text you, but I figured you wouldn’t reply.”

Kuroo grimaced. Ouch. He earned that one. “I had to check in with someone first.”

“Terushima?”

“How’d you know?” Kuroo blinked, staring at Kenma. There’s no way he’d have known that. But Kenma always knew a lot of things Kuroo didn’t understand.

“You smell like him,” he stated. “I noticed when you hugged me.”

“You saw your fucking  _ ex _ before you came to us?”

Akaashi was sitting up, no longer laying directly on Bokuto, but close enough that he was pressed against him, safe in his arms. But his dark blue eyes were as hard as steel, cutting through the air, and burning Kuroo with their intensity. His face was twisted with annoyance, a scowl on his mouth, which softened for a fraction of a moment when Bokuto gingerly ran his fingers along his arm, comfortingly. No one dared combat Akaashi’s statement, Bokuto watched the boy beside him with fond amusement, and Kenma’s normally frowned lips were twitching at the corners as a smirk threatened.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were awake,” Kuroo hesitated, fumbling over his words as he tried to find the right ones to say. Akaashi had been burned the most by this whole thing and he had to tread lightly. Akaashi was not fragile. No, he was not nearly as breakable as Kuroo felt. But he deserved more than the pain Kuroo brought him. It wasn’t an accident. He could have done more. He should have done more. Akaashi’s eyes were narrowed into furious slits. Kuroo swallowed hard. “It wasn’t what you thought—we weren’t like— y’know.”

“Oh, so you didn’t disappear for five hours to get fucked in the library?” His words were seething. “What about over the weekend? Did you disappear to get fucked then? What about that Tsukishima kid? You seemed pretty comfortable with him this morning.”

Kenma hummed, more to himself, “I didn’t think you even spoke to Tsukki.”

Kuroo stood awkwardly before his friends, letting Akaashi’s harsh words settle around him, accepting every nasty thing they had in store for them. Despite their silences, he knew Bokuto and Kenma were curious, too. They held concerned gazes, locked behind their serious and set scowls. Even behind the venomous words Akaashi spit at him, there was just a release of fear built up over the past few days. He had hurt them. Very badly. But he was here now. That’s all he could offer them.

“No, I wasn’t sleeping with Terushima, I just need to get away for a little while,” he admitted. “I needed to figure out what I wanted to say before I showed up and pissed you guys off even more.”

“So what happened to you?” Bokuto asked, innocently. “What happened to your arm?”

Kuroo peered down at his arm, resting in its sling, the worst parts of it covered in thick bandages. If only they could’ve seen the bruised fingerprints as they trailed down his forearm. If only they could’ve seen him lying helpless and dying on the floor. Then they’d truly understand. But they won’t ever have that. They won’t ever know. Kuroo grit his teeth, clenching his fist at his side, before realizing his nails were digging into his palm. He took a shallow breath and shrugged his shoulders, putting on his bravest face, and meeting Kenma’s eyes.

He had to convince Kenma.

“I fell.”

“You  _ fell _ ?” Akaashi exclaimed, eyes wide. Unable to comprehend his words. “Did you fall for fucking three days straight?”

Kenma’s eyes held steady, his face unreadable.

“I was drunk on Friday and I fell down some stairs. I cut my hand on some glass and broke my wrist in the process. I was with some of the Jans. They took me to the hospital and I had to stay there for a little bit. It was fine. I’m fine. I just forgot my phone. Someone found it for me, but it was too late at that point. Look, I’m really,  _ really _ sorry.” Fuck, he was lying through his teeth. And he hoped it was enough. His brown eyes flashed with false invincibility, hoping it was enough for them.

Nothing from Kenma.

“So you aren’t sleeping with all of the Jans?” Bokuto asked.

Kuroo scowled. “What? No. What the fuck, Bo? I’m not sleeping with anybody. I  _ fell _ . And I was stupid.”

Akaashi scoffed. “I’d fucking say so.” He shook his head, unable to look at Kuroo. Bokuto frowned at him and offered his hand to him, which he promptly took, and gave a hard squeeze. 

Kuroo’s eyes did not leave Kenma’s. Kenma was just watching him. Silently. Not a hint of an emotion crossed his face, nor flitted across his eyes. He was thinking, Kuroo knew that much. But what about? He couldn’t guess if he tried. And it unsettled him. This was not something that could be challenged. To his friends, this was the only story they could know. This was the only truth he could tell. Any deviation from this would put Kuroo in a position of power over the vampires. Power that would destroy him. They couldn’t know of the world beyond this one. The world beyond humans where there were monsters lurking under beds and hiding in the shadows.

Kenma had to believe him.

Akaashi had placed his head in his hands, rubbing his temples, as he tried to control his breathing. Bokuto was mumbling soft words to him, running his fingers up and down his back, and even offering a soft kiss to his head, Akaashi moved into it only slightly. Kuroo was sure he was not supposed to notice. After a moment, Bokuto moved the blankets off his lap, and stood up, stretching his long legs in front of him. With a light groan, he moved off the couch and strode over to Kuroo. His golden eyes were glistening, shining, beaming, warm. Good. Sweet, good Bokuto. And he swept him in a hug, wrapping his large arms around him, and hugging him tight. Kuroo only winced when the pressure in his injured wrist started to sting, but he bit back the complaint and let Bokuto stay there, crushing him.

He grinned, wide, and warm, and leaned into the embrace, pressing his face into his shoulder.

“I’m just glad you’re okay, Kuroo,” Bokuto said to him, to him only, a hum by his ear. He gave his back one final pat, hard enough to knock the wind out of him, and Kuroo accepted that, too.

When he stepped away, Akaashi was there next.

His hard blue eyes were softer now, still darkened with annoyance, but his face had eased back into its cool and comfortable expression. If Kuroo did not know the boy, he would have assumed not a single thing was wrong. But he saw the scarring in his stare, afraid that if he looked away from him for a moment Kuroo would disappear again. He saw the cracks that he had left, that his words had not mended. But they were put together again. Stacked one by one on top of each other, back in their place, and time would take care of the rest.

Akaashi hugged him next, tighter than Bokuto.

“I’m really sorry, Akaashi,” Kuroo murmured to him. “I’m so,  _ so  _ sorry.”

“Please don’t do that shit again,” he whispered back. “Sorry about your face.”

Kuroo chuckled.

And just like that, he was accepted back into their space. He was given his own mound of blankets to hide under while the couch was occupied. They watched a movie, laughed like they used to, and when the time came, settled to bed together. Akaashi and Bokuto slipped to Bokuto’s room to sleep on his bed, while Kenma forced Kuroo to take the couch despite his attempts to stay on the floor. All it took was a flash of yellow eyes and Kuroo was doing as he was told, letting Kenma shove pillows along his body, keeping his wrist elevated, and covering him in blankets.

Terushima was right. His own self-doubt clouded his judgement to a point where he had chosen to suffer instead of acting on his own. His decisions had become poisoned by fear, by uncertainty. By a new scope of reality which, while he pondered it, still terrified him, but he was willing to exist within it. He was not afraid of the monsters with the gnashing teeth and the violent eyes, nor the proud poise they held when they were no longer monsters. Instead, he admired them. And thought, for just a moment, what it would be like to be so utterly invincible in all the same ways that they were.

The foundation had been set tonight. 

He could be rebuilt.

When he closed his eyes, Kenma’s steady and slow breathing on the floor beside him, he thought about this moment. And how it was warm. And that this was what humanity had to offer.

And it was still, somehow, not enough for him.

Kuroo did not think about humanity often. Because when he did, he found his thoughts ended up drifting elsewhere.

Because when he closed his eyes, he thought of only Daishou and his yellow eyes staring back at him. He wondered where he was. He wondered if he was thinking of him too.

“Hey, Kuroo.” Kenma’s voice was a whisper in the darkness.

He hummed a slurry response, sleep beginning to take him.

“I know you’re lying.”

Before Kuroo could respond, Kenma rolled over and went to sleep.


	13. Why were the nights so long?

Life moves slowly when waiting for something to happen.

How many days did it take for a person to carry on?

Too many days. Kuroo’s bruised face had healed, leaving just the remnants of brownish tones along his cheek. The only visible darkness on his thinned face sat comfortably underneath his eyes from all the nights where sleep did not take him and he was left alone with his thoughts. Too many days. His injured hand had earned the privilege to rest in a hardened shell, black and secure, after Asahi had managed to acquire the necessary materials for a cast. Too many days. He spent his days filing in and out of hallways, entering busy buildings populated by students who walked a little bit too slow for him, and spoke a little bit too fast. Too many days. He sat in libraries with his human friends, tapping his pencil against his notebook, brewing pots of coffee at odd hours of the evenings, staring out windows and wondering where the day had gone and why the nights were so long. Too many days. He sat on the floor of his vampire friends’ apartments, occasionally traveling to their separate off-campus home, tapping his pencil against his notebook, catching glimpses of stories they shared about long ago happenings, staring out windows and wondering where the day had gone and why the nights were so long.

Life moves slowly when waiting for something to happen.

Where had the day gone and why were the nights so long?

***

Winter had finally come to Forks University. Snow kept the campus covered in a thick layer of white, painting it a picture of a winter wonderland. A place where flurries would kick up with the wind, and the branches were barren and beautiful, like icy tendrils reaching up towards the heavens, begging for some kind of mercy. The air had a biting chill to it, stinging any visible skin. Heavy winter coats had become the standard for anybody who dared trek through the snow, as well as a combination of heavy boots, and a thick scarf wrapped around necks. And while it snowed, the flakes were so large and fluffy, the silence that followed was unlike any kind of peace Kuroo had known in the few weeks as they passed by him, unchecked and unchanging.

Kuroo stood outside, his large red coat wrapped snuggly around him, with his chin tucked into his scarf. His head tilted towards the sky, the dark clouds fighting against the sun as it tried to break through. The snow fell lightly, steadily. The flurries stuck to his black eyelashes and he blinked them away. The silence was deafening, all the noise of the campus hushed by the flakes as they fell, leaving the tall, slender boy alone to his thoughts as they swirled inside his head. It was so quiet, he could hear more than the loudest part of his mind, and the uncertain little whispers as they circulated to attention.

The smallest thoughts, the quietest ones, the most uncertain ones, held the heaviest content. They were the most difficult to understand. They were the most broken, chipped and cracked, layered together. The most devastated and uneven, born from a haphazard foundation of fractured comprehension. These were the thoughts that disturbed his sleep at night. The cause for his restlessness.

And while the silent snow provided him with peace, he was not at peace. He did not think he would ever be at peace again. What a dismal concept for someone so young, someone with so much life left ahead of him— to never know peace again. Kuroo held an unfortunate understanding of life without peace and he was content with its continuation. For however long it continued.

The air burned the back of his throat, reaching deep into his lungs, and freezing them. He could stay in this moment for the rest of the day if he tried, as the sun slipped away, and the grey sky only darkened. The daytime seemed so brief, fading away faster than the moon was prepared for. The darkness came so quickly, like a blanket being tossed over the sky. Like a black ocean, its waters so cold and desolate, not even the stars managed to break free of its icy grasp and shine. His smile was thin, his face weary, Kuroo’s hazel-brown eyes were emotionless. No fire burned, no twinkle shone. He knew the stars’ misery, and he knew it well. Will they ever shine for him again?

He did not hear the soft padding of feet as they crunched through the snow. Why would he? They moved with grace even on the piles of ice, barely touching the floor, as if they floated. He wondered if anybody else noticed. He noticed all the ways the vampires were not human now. He knew them too well.

“Hey,” Hinata’s voice was bright, softened by the snow as it fell. “What are you doing standing here?”

Kuroo glanced down at him. His coat was a rich navy color, making his orange hair stand out against its sharp contrasting tone, and his amber eyes were wide and curious as they stared up at Kuroo. The tip of his nose was pink from the cold and his smile was warm. He was always excited to see him, no matter the circumstances, no matter the hour of the day, or the context of the conversation. Hinata wanted to be a part of it all, to contribute to the conversations, to laugh alongside Kuroo, to share the same parts of his existence. The humanity breathed from Hinata like a bellow into fire and Kuroo wondered why it mattered so much to him.

Kuroo offered half of what was left of his thinning grin and he shrugged. “It’s quiet.”

Hinata nodded, as if that made the most perfect sense in the whole world. “Aren’t you cold?”

Kuroo found his hand had not been tucked warmly into his pocket and instead flexed slowly, stiffened by the cold air, parts of it turning red and stinging by the sudden shift of blood flow. Kuroo had not noticed the small pain in the tips of his fingers. He shrugged again. “Oh. No, not really. I hadn’t noticed at all.”

Hinata was already pulling off his gloves and offering them up to Kuroo. “Take them, I don’t need them.”

Kuroo’s thin smile had more depth to it. “Won’t your hands be cold then?”

The orange-haired boy shook his head, the flakes that had stuck to the ends of his hair shaking out and splattering Kuroo’s coat. He chuckled, low in his chest. Hinata grabbed his hand, despite his silent protests in his eyes, and started to pull the glove onto his fingers.

“Your hands are a bit smaller than mine, don’t you think?”

“I’m not small,” Hinata huffed, his breath puffing out around him like a cloud, as his jaw had been set and his eyebrows furrowed, determined to cover enough of Kuroo hands with his gloves.

“I didn’t say  _ you  _ were small.” Kuroo watched with curious eyes, twinkling with fondness, as the boy smoothly tore a split in the side of the glove and quickly yanked it over Kuroo’s hand. It wasn’t a comfortable fit, and his long fingers prevented the glove from covering his whole hand, but still, Kuroo thanked him and tucked his now gloved hand into his pocket. “Are you sure you’re not going to be cold now? You ruined the glove for me.”

“I don’t feel the cold,” he said, simply. “It’s more comfortable this way. You need to be mindful of your fingers! I don’t want them freezing and falling off.”

Kuroo wiggled his fingers in the glove, still warm from Hinata’s hand, and smiled at it. He looked down at him and nodded. Hinata beamed up at him and nudged him with his side, bumping his hip into him lightly, earning a small chuckle from Kuroo. The comment was light, but Kuroo knew how Hinata worried about him.

Ever since he was attacked, Hinata moved around Kuroo with a fraction less of the intensity he had before. When he thought he wasn’t looking, Hinata worried, watching him carefully, searching for a sign that he would break, that he would simply collapse and shatter into millions of tiny, irreplaceable pieces. And even if he did, Kuroo was certain Hinata would try to piece him back together again. Hinata demonstrated his concerns through small and intentional ways, trying not to overwhelm Kuroo, while also trying to keep from fragilizing him. But still, Kuroo knew what he was doing. It wasn’t in Hinata’s nature to bear the burden of fear on his shoulders. No, Hinata was much too brave, much too courageous, to let his anxieties hold him back. And Kuroo experienced shame in response. Shame for being the reason Hinata strayed from himself.

But the silent part of his mind, the quietest part, the smallest part whispered to him that maybe all Hinata cared about was the risk of humanity fracturing further and further away from him. Perhaps Kuroo shattering would result in Hinata losing his closest connection to the life he once had. The thought made Kuroo sick and, still, it existed.

Kuroo lifted his chin back towards the sky to watch the flakes fall, and to feel the wind whip his hair. Hinata studied him curiously, his earnest expression searching for something within Kuroo, perhaps a sign of life, a trace of joy, but instead all he found was the eerie silence of the campus, and the steadied breathing of his human friend beside him. There was a silence that fell between them, as if Hinata had faded to the back, and all Kuroo could focus on was the sound of his inhale and the sound of his exhale.

The day was fading away fast. It always faded too fast. Night was coming once again.

He shuddered.

“Let’s get out of the cold,” Hinata offered. He was doing it again. Hinata stood closer to Kuroo, as if his presence would warm him, as if Kuroo wanted to be warmed right now. What did it matter if he was cold or not? It wouldn’t break him. Or rather, it shouldn’t break him.

“Can I go to the house with you?” Kuroo asked, his voice low in his throat.

Hinata’s smile faltered, his brows furrowing slightly, and he tilted his head to the side. “Weren’t you going to see Kenma tonight?”

Kuroo shrugged, his face expressionless. “I’ll see him later.”

“There won’t be many of us around,” Hinata warned, following Kuroo’s eyes towards the sky, trying to find whatever invisible thing he was so focused on. He wanted to see too. His voice lowered as he continued on, “We wanted to go hunting this weekend.” 

Kuroo’s voice was stiff and rigid, catching the orange-haired boy off guard. “You can tell me no, Hinata.”

His wide amber eyes were round and sparkling, same as they always do, while he stared at Kuroo. He didn’t have to look at him to read the expression on his face, where his mouth was parted with surprise, and his fists were clenched at his side, either with annoyance or with the creeping feeling of shame crawling along his skin. Kuroo kept his eyes towards the sky, blinking away the snowflakes as they fell into his eyes, knowing the moment he peered at the smaller boy, the harder it would to maintain his edge— stupid fucking vampires and their allure.

“I don’t want to say no to you,” Hinata said, his voice small, shrinking into the silence Kuroo wished he could lie in. There was an edge of sadness Kuroo did not miss. “Are you okay, Kuroo?”

He closed his eyes and sighed, heavily. “I’m just really tired, Hinata.”

Hinata pouted, leaning his head against Kuroo’s shoulder. “You’re still not sleeping well.” It wasn’t a question. He knew as much.

Kuroo shook his head. There was nothing else to say. Nothing else to explain. He had absolutely nothing else for Hinata. Not now.

Hinata nestled his head against his shoulder, a familiar position he has found himself in with Kuroo these past few weeks, and held onto his arm with both of his hands. He held him tight enough that Kuroo knew he would not let him go, tight enough to remind the dark-haired boy that the was still there, tight enough to keep Kuroo close enough to the ground so that he would not one day float away with the wind or ascend towards the sky he kept staring at with his misery-ridden eyes. Oh, how Kuroo missed the stars, and oh, how desperately Hinata wished he could give them back to him.

And they stood like that long enough for the sun to sink deeper into the horizon and covered the snow-blanketed campus in a layer of creeping darkness. The snow stopped. The sky remained black and starless and the only light shone from the lanterns which lined the walkways of the campus, but they were not nearly as bright as Hinata’s eyes. Soon, the air became too cold for Kuroo to tolerate, and he moved his arm from Hinata’s grip, but just enough to grip onto his hand, holding it firmly in his own. Hinata smiled up at him, trying to earn a grin in return, but Kuroo did not once look back at him. Instead, his misery-ridden eyes stared at the ground, disappointed again by the return of the night.

Tonight, not even the moon wished to visit him.

Hinata’s face fell, but he took Kuroo home anyway, wondering silently to himself what it would take for the night sky to be littered with stars again.

***

The vampires’ home was always a wonder for Kuroo to visit. He liked their spaces on the campus, each of their dorm rooms hilariously young adult and constructed in a way to give them the appearance of youthful ignorance. But their home, the one hidden faraway from the campus, down long and winding roads into the countryside, where neighbors were acres away, and where the trees were the only ones to hear them, was more personal to them. Despite its temporary status, a blink in the scope of their long lives, they had made it their home. Each of their rooms was a glimpse into who they truly were.

He had seen Asahi and Nishinoya’s room, the room with the largest windows, with the most sunlight they could afford for the wall of plants, potted and hanging alike, the couple had carefully constructed. In addition to the pile of carefully folded laundry, atop a clean and made up bed, there was an assortment of paints and papers spilled across another table. Stains of paints on the hardwood floor, some on the carpet, but enough to remind Kuroo who shared the space. 

Sugawara’s room was barely usable, his bed was tucked into the corner of the room, and scattered across the floor, books were piled high to the ceiling, some toppled over, some neatly stacked, some shelved. There were journals everywhere, filled with frantic scribbles, pictures of long ago places, long ago people, people who had been forgotten, and people Sugawara wanted to remember.

Hinata’s space was warm and familiar, but Kuroo did not spend much time in it. Something about his bedroom made him sad. There were pictures all over his walls, pictures of smiling faces, pictures of places he had always wanted to visit, pictures of a time that existed not too long ago based on the quality of the photographs. Pictures of a time Hinata grew up in. Pictures of a time Hinata did not want to forget. And Kuroo always wondered, but never dared to ask, how many times he looked at the pictures and couldn’t remember who the faces belonged to.

But Kuroo was not in anyone’s bedroom. He was sitting on the floor of the living room, blankets draped over his shoulders, and his textbook open in front of him. He wasn’t reading the pages. He couldn’t if he tried. A heavy weight of exhaustion pulled at his eyelids, but he knew sleep would not actually come if he tried to lay down and rest. Instead, he found himself falling into trances, blinking himself out of them, and having a brief moment of confusion until he was able to find Hinata’s slender form curled up in his giant beanbag, only his orange hair peeking from under the wealth of plush blankets.

The house had been empty when they arrived, all the others were either back on the campus or somewhere else, deep in the woods, satisfying their thirst. To pass the time, they had prepared hot chocolates together, sipping the warm drinks, leaving a touch of whipped cream atop their upper lips and finding themselves falling into a shared pit of giggles.

The moment was warm, but it had passed hours ago.

How fleeting were the moments where Kuroo was unbearably aware of his humanity.

Now, Kuroo sat, the only one awake in the house, with no noise to hold his attention, no other person to distract him, and suddenly, it was like every other night. His eyes glassy, the rims a pale pink, the dark circles underneath deepening as the hollows of his cheeks became more and more pronounced as his body weakened. He found himself, moved to a seat near the window, staring outside, watching the night sky, prepared for another sleepless night. He wondered, miserably, how it was possible that the nights could be so black and not a single star was available to shine for him.

Fortunately, he did not have to suffer alone much longer. There was a loud crash as the door to the house slammed open.

Unfortunately, he was not expecting bitter and angry voices to enter the room.

The slamming rattled the whole house, causing Hinata to leap from his beanbag chair and rush over to Kuroo, his eyes blazing as his muscles tensed around him. He stood before him, breath caught in his throat, but when he realized who the voices belonged to, the tension did not slip from his shoulders like Kuroo had expected. Instead, Hinata only tensed even further, anger flaring in his amber eyes.

Kuroo tried to speak, but Hinata shushed him, moving in a way which made it clear he was trying to shield him with his small form. His warning was enough. This was not a situation either of them wanted to be a part of.

“Sugawara, slow down, you’re not letting me finish.” Daichi’s voice was hard, distraught as he chased after the ashy-haired boy into the house.

Kuroo peered over Hinata’s shoulder. The pair were still in the front part of the house, separated by a small walkway which led to the living room. It became suddenly very apparent to Kuroo that Sugawara and Daichi didn’t know they were in the house. Hearing their sharp tones make Kuroo’s stomach twist with uncertainty. He’d never seen any of the vampires angry… not since the attack. His breath was caught in his throat and his fingers anxiously reached out to grab onto the back of Hinata’s shirt.

“I’m not going to listen to this,” Sugawara snapped back at him, his gentle and kind voice was replaced with something serious, something darker, something that Kuroo did not know. And he wished to never know. He always wondered what it meant to be the leader of the clan of vampires, trying to picture what a master vampire was supposed to be, and he only knew Sugawara’s kindness to embody it. Perhaps there was more. Perhaps there was so much more to holding that kind of power. By the sound of his footsteps, it was clear Sugawara was trying to leave Daichi behind him, but the dark-haired vampire kept up with him.

“What do you  _ mean  _ you’re not going to listen? I’m talking about Ennoshita, not some random rogue.  _ Ennoshita _ .” Daichi hissed through clenched teeth.

There was a sharp intake of breath, sounding almost like a hiss— the same hiss Kuroo remembered as coming from a wicked monster. A terrifying beast of the night. 

Kuroo’s heart started to race as the panic built in his chest. Hinata looked at him and frowned, the hardness of his eyes not faltering, but he took his hand anyway and squeezed it tight. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Kuroo to swallow some of his fear.

“I said no. I don’t have to explain my intentions to you.” Sugawara’s voice was low in his throat. It was a warning, clear and as sharp as could be.

Kuroo was surprised when Daichi challenged the authority radiating off of Sugawara. A growl rumbled in Hinata’s chest and Kuroo wondered how often interactions like this occurred between the vampires. Did Sugawara need defending? What made Daichi so bold?

“He’s our family, Suga. If he’s out there, he’s looking for us. Let me go. I’ll take Tanaka and Noya and we’ll scour the West.”

“No, you won’t.” Sugawara’s voice softened. “I know what he means to you, Daichi, but I’m not splitting us up. Not now. Not yet. We have too much here, right now, to risk shedding it for the sake of another. Ennoshita isn’t the only one searching for us.”

Daichi groaned, agitated. His voice raised at the ashy-haired boy. “Fuck, Suga, no! No. I won’t take that. Not anymore. You’re wrong. No one is looking for us, it’s been  _ years _ . Don’t you think we would’ve been found? There’s been  _ silence _ from—”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare say his fucking name, Daichi.” Sugawara’s voice shifted. It was no longer intimidating, no longer a threat, nor a warning. It shifted to something else, something darker. Something heavier. He sounded like a leader, but one who had been broken time and time again. He sounded like he never wanted to be broken again. “He has not stopped looking. He never will.”

And Hinata noticed too, his grip on Kuroo’s hand tightening to a point where Kuroo winced with pain. Hinata glanced back at him, his eyes wide, angry, and his mouth pressed into a hard line. He looked like he wanted to tear away from Kuroo, to break up their pair of lovers who spat at one another, to force them apart. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t move. There was a story Kuroo did not yet know, and Hinata was frozen in place by an unspoken, long ago promise.

There was a scoff and shuffling, movement just out of sight, and the shattering of glass.

“Get off of me. Don’t fucking touch me.” Sugawara’s voice was rising, it’s hard edge was wavering. Something Kuroo did not know could happen to him. “Get  _ OFF. _ ” 

Words were shared, too low, too murmured for Kuroo to pick up on them. But Hinata heard them all and he started to pull away from Kuroo, to go towards them, but Kuroo grabbed his arm with his other hand, trying to cling to the boy the best he could with one healthy hand and another which needed more time to heal.

“Suga, please, you’re being—”

“What am I being, Daichi?” Sugawara’s voice was nearly a yell, his words breaking at the end. Falling away from him as if he suddenly had forgotten what it was like to hold them in his hands. He was always so confident, so certain of his words, and it was horrible to hear him struggle. As if his breath wasn’t enough to complete them. “Am I being too  _ soft  _ for you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

There was a wild laugh, manic. Brimming with a pain so crippling there are not words to describe it. A noise so heart-wrenching, so pitiful, poisoned with disgust so prominent, it was clear the emotion had settled into his bones and become a part of his soul. A sadness so honest, Kuroo wondered how Sugawara could feel anything else at all. “You didn’t have to.” 

“Suga—”

Sugawara ignored the desperate plea from his lover, walking past him, marching beyond him, and stepping into the living room where Hinata and Kuroo sat, cowering in their corner, wishing to disappear in fear of the reaction to their unwanted, and unaccounted for, eavesdropping. But what entered the room, Kuroo did not expect.

Sugawara’s clothes were stained red, his thin fingers were stained red, his pale and pretty face was splattered with fading red droplets, but Kuroo did not pay any attention to that. He wasn’t sure if he noticed the blood at all. He was staring into Sugawara’s eyes. They were wide, touched by wetness, and the most hollowed, empty, lifeless blackholes. No, they were not the eyes of a monster. They were much, much worse. His eyes were cold and barren, revealing years and years of agonizing existence, revealing thousands and thousands of days of misery, exposing a suffering that was meant to kill but never did— and there was a glimpse of wishing it had.

In a flash, it was gone. And Kuroo was staring back into his warm brown eyes, twinkling with kindness. Twinkling with unachievable softness. And even the corners of his mouth pulled into a small smile. The same smile he met the first day he encountered him, sitting across from him in his biology lab. How could it exist?

Kuroo couldn’t help the gasp that pulled from his mouth, the overwhelming urge to cry made his eyes sting, and he wanted nothing more than to run to Sugawara, to hold him close, to take the pain unto himself, to hold it for him, to keep it for him, so that he never had to feel it again. He surged forward, to run to him, to try, but Hinata’s grip on him was vice-like. Despite his restraint, he trembled, and Kuroo knew Hinata shared his desire.

And what shook him the most was that he could not tell if his surge of emotion was charged by his feelings of friendship or driven by an outside force— his allure.

“My apologies,” Sugawara said, quietly. There was no shame clinging to his words, no annoyance at their presence, no anger, no disappointment, no sadness. He sounded… normal. He even chuckled, softly. “I’m going to get cleaned up.” He raised his bloodied hands and bowed his head before heading towards the stairs, disappearing into the home.

Shortly after, Daichi followed suit, taking a different route through the house, his head lowered and his mouth twisted into a grimace. He held shame. He held regret. He held anger. And Hinata growled as he moved past them, but Daichi did not look up. He didn’t even glance in the direction of Hinata and Kuroo. And soon, he disappeared into the home too.

A heavy silence fell.

Kuroo’s fingers were still wound in Hinata’s shirt, his heart still racing in his chest, as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. Hinata moved first and slowly uncurled Kuroo’s fingers from him, nudging him to scoot over in his seat, so that he could climb into it also. They sat next to each other, not sharing a word, and Hinata matched Kuroo’s forlorn expression, leaning his elbow onto the windowsill, and staring at the nighttime sky.

Kuroo opened his mouth to speak, wishing he wasn’t so clueless, wishing he could understand what this meant, wishing he knew anything of substance about these vampires, but he knew there was too much to unpack for just one night. So he swallowed his pride, and swallowed his curiosity, and leaned on the windowsill beside Hinata.

“I wish you would’ve seen Kenma tonight,” Hinata shared, absently, his voice faraway, his eyes twinkling bright enough to replace the missing stars completely. “I wish you didn’t have to see them fight.”

Kuroo didn’t look at him either. “I want to be here.”

“I know you do. And that’s what scares me.”

Kuroo frowned, glancing at Hinata, whose face had fallen, just slightly. “Why does that scare you?”

Hinata looked at him, his eyes rounded, fear plain on his face. “Because you think we’re better than you. You think we’re untouchable. But we’re not. We’re not any better than humans. We’re all the terrible parts of humanity and then some.”

“I don’t think that.”

“There’s a lot about us that you don’t know about. And I hoped you would never have to know about it. But it’s going to keep showing up like it did tonight. We aren’t good, Kuroo.” Hinata tilted his head to the side, joyless wonder sparking in his rich amber eyes as he studied Kuroo’s face. His sad, gaunt face. And he grimaced at him. “You saw what this life did to Sugawara. That’s all I have to look forward to. But you? You can be whoever you want. You can be happy.”

Kuroo stared back at him, disquieted, confused, and despite his effort, a little bit hurt. He did not know what his friend meant— how could he? he was only human— but he still felt the stinging in his chest, the threat of tears as they burned behind his eyes, and he clenched his jaw. “Hinata—”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Hinata pulled his gaze away and returned his attention to the sky. “I’m glad you’re here. I like you. A lot. I’m just scared.”

“Will you tell me what happened to him? To Sugawara. To all of you.”

Hinata paused, thoughtful. “Someday, I think. Someday soon. But not today. Not tonight.”

Kuroo nodded and released the breath he did not realize he was holding.

“I’m not going to break.”

Kuroo was not invincible. He was not sure if he could ever be invincible again. But he was not as fragile as Hinata thought he was.

There was a sharp inhale of breath. “I know you’re not. But there’s so much you don’t know. I’d like to keep you this way for a little while longer. Like I said: We aren’t good, Kuroo. But I suppose, you’ll just end up finding that out on your own.”

Kuroo bit back the scowl that threatened to twitch onto his lips. Keep him this way? Kuroo was suffering. And he did not know when it would end.

***

Where had the day gone and why were the nights so long?

The hours of the night stretched on endlessly before Kuroo as he padded around the quiet house, pacing its hallways, and fidgeting with locked doors he never noticed before. Sugawara never emerged from his room after his dispute with Daichi, not once returning to the living room to say hello or share a chat. He just vanished to the darkness of his bedroom. Kuroo wondered if he was asleep, resting peacefully in whatever bliss he could manage, or if he suffered like Kuroo, his restlessness too unbearable, staring at the ceiling and wondering when the night would end.

Kuroo tried to sleep. He really did.

He started alone, in the same bed he had following his attack, but sleep did not come for him. He tried visiting Hinata’s room, asking to sleep nearby, but sleep did not come for him. Hinata let him nestle close to him, shared covers and pillows, and still, sleep did not come. 

So he left sleep behind and took to wandering the house, walking its empty hallways, pausing before every window and willing the sun to come up so that his nightmare would end. His feet were heavy underneath him, moving slowly, as he paced. His eyes were glassy, pink-rimmed, and empty as he stared. His face was worn, weary, and grey. The last of the yellow he held in his body had dried up days ago. No matter how hard he tried to replace it, it faded faster than he could hold onto it. And it slipped past his fingers every time.

He found himself standing at the backdoor to the house, peering through the large glass panes which opened up like a portal to another world. The house had an outside patio, with a balcony overlooking the wide and wild forest as it swallowed the house in its greatness. With one swift movement, he opened the door, shoeless, and he stepped onto the porch, the snow crunching lightly underneath his toes. The immediate shock of the coldness caused him to shudder, but he found he enjoyed the feeling. His cheeks were met with a rush of wind as it touched him, turning the tops of his cheeks rosy and the tip of his nose pink. He wore a lightweight jacket, but it was not enough to ease the cutting wind as it chilled him to his very core. And still, he did not want to leave.

He liked it here.

The cold had all of his senses reacting, like electricity coursing through his body.

He wrapped his arms protectively around himself, breathing in the cold air, letting it singe his lungs. He closed his eyes, long enough to listen to the forest sounds, the crickets in the distance, the rustling of branches, the snapping of twigs. When he reopened his eyes, the darkness seemed to stretch out before him, widening the void of the black universe, littering its nothingness with a dense forest of trees. 

At first, he found peace. Only for an instant. Existing in the nothingness as it swallowed him up, laying out its massiveness, and providing him a place where his mind could rest. There was no thinking necessary out here, staring out into the chasm of trees. There was only existing. Breathing.

It reminded him of his dreams. His nightmares. Floating on the ocean, as clear as glass, reflecting the nighttime sky which enveloped him. But instead of painting his world in a rich never-ending blackness dotted with millions of shining stars, the stars stayed hidden.

Except for two.

Twinkling.

Shining.

Taunting.

But they were there. Yellow. Staring at him amidst the trees.

If he listened closely, he almost heard them laughing at him, their wicked gleeful belly-laughs. And the greed within him grew once again.

God, how badly he wanted them to shine for him, to steal their yellow, to press into his skin and return to him what was once his.

He did not look back to the house as he, barefoot, stepped down from the porch, climbing the stairs until he found himself standing in the snow of the earth. He was level with the trees, peering into the darkness which engulfed them, searching for a glimpse of the yellow that had stared back at him. He took a slow step, no longer noticing the biting cold of the snow beneath his exposed flesh, moved towards the forest. No longer paying attention to the chill in his core, licking away at his bones, making his movements stiff and rigid.

He saw the stars, but they were not in the sky.

When he looked to the trees, hidden amongst them, lurking in their shadows, he saw them emerge. Glowing. Shimmering. Twinkling. A set of shining orbs. Staring at him. Watching him.

Yellow eyes.

He knew those eyes.

And the air pulled from his lungs. He started to sprint.

Kuroo raced over the mounds of snow, his feet heavy and clumsy as he tried to stomp through the thick piles of ice, slipping and stumbling after the pair of eyes as they watched from their safe and faraway distance. He couldn’t pull his gaze as he ran towards it, clinging onto trees to steady himself as he kept stumbling, knocking his feet against the hidden rocks and sharp branches. His mind was blank, his breath roaring in his ears. His heart pounding in his chest. His feet were scraped and his skin has raw and ripped, but still he ran.

Towards the yellow eyes.

There were no thoughts to filter his actions. Everything else was too loud, he couldn’t hear them any more. And before he could realize it, the forest had swallowed him up, and he did remember which way was left nor which way was right. He could not remember which corner he had turned or which tree he had passed. And still the eyes lingered, staring at him, shining radiantly in the night, as if they were some kind of beacon, calling to him. Showing him the way.

He tried to scream his name. To get him to stop running. To let him come to him. To let him be held by his yellow eyes, just so that he could remember what it was like. So he could feel them on him again. So that he may feel yellow for just a moment. A taste of what he used to be. A whisper of a life that had fallen away from his grasp.

But his voice did not come. It was strained by the coldness, the shivering of his body, the painful numbing sensation which had overcome him. 

But Kuroo was not breakable. No.

He was going to be invincible again.

For a little while longer.

For the eyes.

He turned to run towards them again, his vision fading fast, fighting against the deterioration of his muscles as they begged him, pleading for him, to stop. And soon, he no longer had a choice. All he saw was darkness. Blackness. And a chill so intense overcame him. He couldn’t even gasp, couldn’t even scream, as his foot stepped out, reaching for the earth, and instead, found nothing at all.

Before he fell, his terror-filled eyes searched the trees for the yellow eyes, but they were gone.

In their place, blue eyes, so dark they seemed touched by a storm cloud, stared back at him. Twinkling. Shining. 

Triumphant.

Victorious.

Then they vanished as if they had never existed at all.

The next thing he knew, water was crashing around him, swallowing him up, and rushing over his head as he tried to scream one last time.

***

Life moves slowly when waiting for something to happen.

How many days did it take for a person to carry on?

Too many days.


	14. Too many days.

“ _ Kuroo! _ ”

The scariest part about death was the waiting for it to happen.

Death wasn’t something Kuroo thought about often.

***

For a moment, he thought he was floating. 

He thought he was drifting through the black void as it opened up before him, colorless and continual. No rough edges or sharp turns stretched out beyond the realm of possibilities. His mind could not conceptualize the vastness of the nothingness as it swept him up in its bitterly cold and never-ending blackness. But for a moment, it was the peace he had been looking for, the peace he thought he would never know again. The silence was deafening. His thoughts were soundless. He heard not the racing of his thoughts, the pounding of his heart in his chest, the panting of his breath. Nothing.

For a moment, it was tranquil.

And he wondered,  _ Is this death? _

It was not.

Agony exploded across his entire body as he subconsciously tried to breathe, water rushing into his mouth, filling his throat, and attacking his lungs. The sensation was like fire, bursting from within his bones, licking at his muscles, turning them all into a thick black char. It was excruciating . It was terrifying. It was so intense, his muscles began to seize. He started to panic, his limbs flailing around him as he desperately tried to kick to the surface, to swim towards the break in the eternal void, where the starless sky met the black ocean, but his mind was no longer connected to his body. Instead, the cold sent shockwave after shockwave through his veins, igniting the very make up of the fine fibers of his being, causing them to spasm and to freeze.

He tried to kick, he tried to thrash, but instead, he stared up at the surface, eyes wide and bulging, as he choked on the water as it drowned him. It was as if his body had had enough. There was no jolt of adrenaline to send him to the surface, no strength left in his bones, no screams left to cry for help. Silent. Afraid. Alone.

Darkness crept into his vision. The kind of darkness that held no end, unlike the great blackness of the lake and its black waters as it swallowed him whole. He stared into the abyss, the hellscape which welcomed him with its greedy and open arms, as it started to take him. In the moment before the void overcame him, his consciousness slipping as the cold finally took hold of him completely, numbing his brain, numbing his body, and numbing his heart, he thought about the peace which followed death.

Was it because of his greed that once again the black ocean, reflecting a starless night, decided to try to drag him into its dark and murky depths? Was it because he ached for the familiar yellow eyes, so hopelessly out of his reach, that he sacrificed his well-being to find them, to touch them, to claim them as his own? But it had been an illusion. There was no yellow in the depths of this darkness. He did not know the answer to his questions, because he could not ask them.

Because drowning is not peaceful.

Drowning is ugly and violent.

And he wished death would come a little bit faster.

***

Some wise person once said something about seeing your entire life flashing before your eyes when in the presence of death. It was always a lost concept on Kuroo’s ears— just something some long ago person once said to make someone else feel better about facing death head on when the time finally came. He never gave it much thought after that. He never wondered if the memories would come back as flashes or if they would play before him like a scene from a movie— probably because he did not think he would encounter death. Not so soon. Not so frequently.

He did not know death would be comfortable as he was transported to a time when he was very alive. It played out before him, like a long ago memory, something fond and warm and good.

If this was his one memory, if this was his one final thought, before death, he was glad. If there is any joy in death, Kuroo did not know, but still he held it in his water-filled chest as he drifted in the blackness of the in-between. Between the ocean and the starless sky. Between death and life. Consciousness and whatever else there was.

It was orientation week at Forks University and the freshmen had infested all community spaces with their orientation leaders leading them through ice-breaker game after ice-breaker game. Kuroo had his hand wound firmly in the fabric at the back of Kenma's hoodie, holding him in place as his face twisted with anger, hidden behind his long blond hair falling in his eyes. He could hear the complaints as they built up behind his shining catlike eyes, darkening like the brewing of a hurricane off a coast in the ocean. Kuroo knew the moment he had lifted from his best friend’s hoodie, he would be fleeing the scene, somewhere far away from the rest of the freshmen at the university.

He knew Kenma hadn’t wanted to come to the orientation activities, but after a lot of convincing, and a lot of bribing, Kuroo ended up dragging his hometown friend to a land of strangers arriving to the campus as a fresh-faced first year, just as they were. Kuroo was excited to meet new people, to arrive onto a campus, and experience college as a young 18 year old. He was even more excited when Kenma decided Forks University was his college of choice as well. But it was unlike Kuroo to be satisfied with just his best friend. He knew, in order to gain the best college experience, he had to  _ at least  _ endure orientation week.

Up until this point, enduring is absolutely what he was doing. Kenma sat close to him, his mouth clamped shut, his eyes averted, purposefully ignoring the requests of the orientation leaders trying to get him to participate in a fun name game. Most of the time Kuroo ended up speaking for Kenma, earning a few chuckles from the audience and a lot of glares from his shorter friend. Kenma wanted to be anywhere else but here, but he agreed to come anyway. He was doing it for Kuroo, he knew that much, and he was grateful. But deep down, Kuroo knew Kenma would have regretted not attending. How else were they to meet anybody else if they didn’t try?

“All right, first-years! We’re going to break up into smaller groups and play a question game. Try to find people you haven’t spoken to yet!” The orientation leader with their large fake grin stared directly at Kenma who scowled, turning directly to Kuroo and grabbing onto his arm, ensuring Kuroo as at least 1/4 th of the small group. There was no way Kenma would end up in a small group without him. 

“I think the goal is to meet new people, Kenma,” Kuroo said, pulling his arm away, offering a half smirk.

“Shut up. You’re my partner,” He grumbled. “If you want me to be here, you’re not leaving my side.”

Kuroo hummed, happily. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Kuroo made a motion for another freshman to join their group, but she was pulled into another by an assortment of giggling girls. With a frown, Kuroo’s light eyes searched the already chattering crowd, the small groups forming quicker than he expected. Orientation leaders bounced from group to group, initiating conversations, welcoming the freshmen, and generally, trying to make it easier to make new friends in one of the most awkward college settings fathomable. One group leader looked towards Kuroo and Kenma, making half of a motion to join them to help them complete their small group, but immediately turned away, likely in response to Kenma’s increasingly agitated glare.

“Kenma, you can’t keep glaring at people. They’re going to think you’re unapproachable.”

“But I don’t want to be approached.”

“You only have to be approachable for the remainder of the hour. Come on, see if you can find someone who still needs a group,” Kuroo said, looking around.

Kenma made no intention to move, crossing his arms across his chest, and scowling at the floor. Well, scowling at the floor was better than scowling at already anxious freshmen. Kuroo sighed, accepting this small sliver of willingness his friend had generated for the sole event freshmen equally hated and loved. Probably. What did Kuroo know about college? He’d only been on the campus for a few days at this point. There was still so much for him to learn. So much for him to experience.

“Hi.”

Kuroo turned to find a tall boy standing behind him, his features soft, his eyes a rich blue. His face was youthful and pointed, hardened in the right places while softer in the others. His mouth was pulled into a faint grin while his dark eyes sparkled with the complexities of a thousand thoughts as information filtered into him. Kuroo grinned at him while Kenma barely noticed his presence, his eyes still averted and glaring at the ground. Kenma grunted a response, taking a step to move away from the boy, but Kuroo latched onto his hoodie again.

“Hi! Do you have a group?”

The boy glanced behind him, for a moment a flash of anxiety crossed his face, but when he met Kuroo’s eyes again, his face was relaxed, offering him a cool grin. He nodded, his stark black hair shaking around him as he touched the ends of it. Kuroo couldn’t tell if blush was touching the tops of his cheeks or if it was related to the plague of social anxiety forcing them to interact.

“I’d really like to join yours, if that’s okay,” he said, his dark eyes meeting Kenma’s, who had finally looked up. “Hi. I’m Akaashi.”

Kenma stared at him, his expression unchanging. Kuroo laughed, patting Kenma on the back with a hard smack, and grinned widely at the boy. “I’m Kuroo. This is my friend Kenma. It’s super cool to meet you.”

Akaashi’s smile widened slightly, chuckling quietly. “It’s nice to meet you guys, too—” He moved to speak, as if he had something else to share, but he was cut off by a loud cry from across the room. Akaashi’s form hardened, going rigid at the sound of the voice, and Kuroo noticed the tops of his cheeks managed to somehow become touched with a faint splash of pink. Kenma’s brows furrowed and he moved to hide behind Kuroo at the approaching boy who somehow managed to take up all the space in the room.

“ _ Akaashi! _ ” 

A large boy with black and white hair sauntered over, his arms raised in the air. He came over and wrapped his arms securely around the dark-haired boy’s shoulders, bearing the widest grin, giggling incessantly as Akaashi’s mouth pulled into the faintest frown. He tucked his chin against his shoulder and smirked at the surprised and confused Kuroo and Kenma.

“Hi, I’m Bokuto!”

Kenma’s eyes narrowed. “Did you guys go to the same high school too?”

Bokuto laughed loudly causing Akaashi to wince, but not pull away. The dark-haired boy shook his head and in his soft voice replied, “No. I met him twenty minutes ago.”

The boys found themselves sitting cross-legged on the floor, their group of four completed. They laughed together, relentlessly making fun of the orientation leaders as they led the question games, asking various questions for the small groups to answer within each other and create bonds with strangers meant to hopefully last their four years at Forks University. When Kuroo met the boys at the time, he had no idea they would end up being his closest friends. Even in those early moments of their friendship, answering cheesy questions about themselves, the group had connected immediately. Even Kenma ended up stifling his smirks and laughing at the ridiculousness of the pairings.

Bokuto was always loud and Akaashi was always calculating. Even on the first day, they sat close together. Kuroo wished he had been there for the moment they had met, but regardless of how it happened, they sat closely to one another as if they had known each other for their entire lives. Akaashi complemented Bokuto’s hardness with his contrasting softness. And it worked. And Kuroo was lucky to be paired with them.

“My favorite movie is the live-action  _ Cat in the Hat _ . It’s graphics? Unreal.” Bokuto’s shining golden eyes were wide with passion as he spoke. Kuroo blinked at him, while Kenma bit back his scowl. Akaashi was the only one who nodded alongside him, encouragingly patting his shoulder.

“Yeah, wow, that sure is something, Bo,” he said, softly.

Bokuto looked at him with bright eyes. “Bo?”

Akaashi fell silent, his fingers anxiously tangling into the grass at his feed, pulling it out in tiny tufts. “Oh, sorry. Can I call you that?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course you can.” Bokuto’s voice had softened, lowering slightly compared to his normal loudness. He smiled at Akaashi, but as if he remembered there were others around him, he suddenly turned to Kuroo and Kenma and grinned widely at them. “You all can, if you want! I like you guys.”

Kuroo shared a wordless grin with Kenma and Kuroo laughed, deep in his chest. “Well, my favorite movie is  _ The Princess Bride _ .”

“I like  _ Parasite _ ,” Kenma shared, quietly, keeping his eyes hidden behind his fallen locks of hair.

Kuroo scoffed, earning curious looks from Bokuto and Kenma. “Dude, don’t fuckin’ lie to them. We did not spend last night marathoning Jane Austen movies for you to tell them  _ Parasite  _ is your favorite movie.”

Bokuto cackled, tossing his head back and rolling onto the grass. Even Akaashi covered his mouth and laughed alongside him. Kenma glared at Kuroo, but it held no true heat. That’s what made Kuroo’s heart begin to ache as he watched his small friend begin to uncurl himself from his slouched position and opening up before the strangers, or rather, their soon-to-be-friends. Kenma looked at Bokuto and Akaashi and smiled at them, genuinely, with a touch of warmth. Kuroo thought his heart might seize up completely and stop beating.

“There’s nothing wrong with a little bit of  _ Pride and Prejudice _ . The Kiera Knightly adaption is easily the best one,” Akaashi said, matter-of-factly.

“Right?” Kenma cried, pausing at his outburst, but settling comfortably in the silence that followed. He cleared his throat, then shyly started to pick at the grass also. “I’d watch it again later if you guys wanted too. Kuroo and I live in North Residence Hall, if you want to come over. Kuroo can buy us popcorn.”

Kuroo grinned, nodding along, accepting whatever plans Kenma dared to make up, absolutely willing to buy whatever Kenma said they needed. Akaashi nodded, an expression of genuine joy crossing his face and making his blue eyes shine. Bokuto clearly did not know what the movie was, a blankness about his golden eyes, but he nodded anyway. His grin, too, was joyful and real.

“I can bring the apple juice,” Bokuto said. “I can’t wait for you guys to see my movie shoes.”

“Movie shoes?” Kenma said, baffled. Kuroo laughed, earning a side-eye from Kenma.

The small group continued to laugh, sharing their plans for the rest of the night, looking forward to the first of many movie nights spent together. Kenma was talking more, sharing his interests openly without needing to lean towards Kuroo for support. Watching him open up made Kuroo’s heart swell, a warmth unimaginable starting to take hold of his entire body. It started in his chest and expanded slowly, stretching out into the tips of his fingers and the ends of his toes, and made him aware of every breath he held. It was the warmest moment of all, filled with joy. A promise for the future. A promise of what was to come. More warmth. More joy.

Kuroo laughed, wiping his eyes, leaning comfortably back against his palms at his new group of friends. Bokuto spoke next, beaming.

“Wait! We never learned what Akaashi’s favorite movie was. Will you tell us?” 

Akaashi smirked. “It’s a little bit silly,” he admitted. Bokuto waved the thought away.

“I want to know, too,” Kuroo said.

Akaashi looked at him and his eyes flickered to life. Shining. Hopeful. “ _ Twilight _ . My favorite movie is  _ Twilight _ .”

“Vampires?” Kuroo snorted. How silly was the thought of vampires so long ago.

How he laughed in that moment, young, unaware, a small freshman with months and months of friendship ahead of him. How fleeting the moment was, a memory Kuroo was not meant to remember but did anyway. How distant a memory and how presently it made him feel as the scene came to a close and the darkness swallowed the smiling faces of his friends up.

This was what humanity had to offer.

This was all it was. 

The feeling was warm.

But Kuroo was not sure if he could ever be warm again because all he felt was cold. All over his body. Cold everywhere. Only cold. 

***

  
  


Kuroo sank into the lake, his body limp and lifeless, as the water pulled him deeper and deeper into its mysterious depths. The water was so cold, so bitterly shocking, there was not an ounce of heat left to keep his mind functioning normally. There were only two sensations Kuroo felt as he continued to sink: cold and pain. Both were not mutually exclusive, combining together to create a cocktail of misery meant to overwhelm every piece of flesh, igniting every fiber of the boy’s being with wave after wave of intense icy heat and its accompanying numbness.

The boy could not react to the sensations, they had already beaten him. He drifted, limp and lifeless, his eyes closed, his mouth parted because the water had already drowned him. The cold had already chilled him. The pain had already pushed his mind to a point of insanity, where thoughts were fragmented, and cognition was nothing but firing neurons desperately into empty synapses. There was no more fight or flight, only floating, and drifting, and sinking. The only thing the boy could do in his final moments of life, waiting for the darkness to win, was hang onto what’s remnants of his memory, of the warmth he held in his bones, and to wait for it to flicker away just like a flame being depleted of oxygen.

There was not much time left for him. He was running on fumes alone.

But the wonder about pain is that it is not meant to serve a sole purpose of inflicting misery. For most individuals, the experience of inflicted suffering is all they will know. Every painstaking breath, every moment of agony, it is meant to hurt and that is all it will ever be. But for as long pain still burned somewhere lost within his fading consciousness, lost within his dampening soul, his failing body, he was still alive. The pain was a brutal reminder that his heart still beat, despite its slowing, despite its struggling, but it was enough.

He was not dead yet.

And he was not dead when the water split around him. He was not dead when strong arms wound their way around his midsection, pulling him towards the surface. He was not dead when he was dragged to the surface, the cold air slicing into his waterlogged flesh like a hot knife into butter. He was not dead when he was tossed onto the snowy banks along the water, dragged out of the wet hell, and prodded and poked by warm hands.

“God  _ fucking  _ damnit, does this kid have a death wish?”

“We need to get him back into the house, Daishou. He’s going to die in this weather if we don’t get him warmed up  _ right now _ .”

“Shut the fuck up, Tuskishima, he’s going to die if we don’t  _ do something _ now.” 

“His lips are blue.”

“I know his lips are blue!”

He was not dead when air was forced into his lungs by hard presses of a palm into the spot underneath his sternum. He was not dead when his chin was tilted back and a mouth was pressed over his own, breathing life into him again. He was not dead when the cycle repeated. Hard compressions. Two breaths into his mouth. He was not dead when the water started to flush from his lungs and with a great gasp, choked on it again. He was not dead when he was turned onto his side and vomited. And vomited. And vomited until his throat was clear. Until there was nothing else inside of him except pain and cold.

“Kuroo? Hey, Kuroo? Can you hear me? That’s right, get it all out.” Warm fingers held onto his shoulders, rubbing his back softly. Kuroo trembled, violently, against the hands, his entire body pressed by icy chills. The lack of warmth within him threatened him again and his hands were wound into tight fists, frozen in its position, unable to be pulled apart if he tried. He choked again, coughing up whatever was left within his chest, and he collapsed against the earth, pressing his face into the snow. He saw only black blurry images, blinking did nothing but increase the fuzziness of his head. His thoughts were still not thoughts. The sting of the cold was so overwhelming, he did not notice it at all, he could only notice his reaction to it.

And he continued to wretch and shake.

“We have to get him warm. Now.”

There was a grunt in response and the person closest to him moved to set his arms underneath Kuroo, lifting him as if he weighed nothing at all. The boy curled instinctively into the chest which held him close, unable to control his body as it shivered and shook, his breathing coming out in desperate rasps as he clutched onto the soaking wet shirt of his savior. He tried to move to see him, but his body rejected his plea and he instead continued to wheeze and tremble.

“No, Daishou. I’ll take him.”

“What?” His voice hissed from his chest, his arms tightening around Kuroo’s form. “I can tolerate him, Tsukki. I’m  _ fine _ . Let me take him home.”

Daishou?

His name. His voice. His touch against his cold and clammy skin as he trembled against him. None of it was enough to cut through the atrophying of his mind. He heard the words as they flowed past his lips, he felt the rumble of them through his chest, and he understood the function of his tightening hands on his body— and he knew how much tighter they could grasp… what damage could be done with them.

Before, the fear had been so all-consuming, it was no longer the forefront of his thoughts. It had fried him, wasted him, and he held only the primitive actions of a human tossed before death and told to try to survive. But somehow, an all too familiar creeping of a monstrous fear settled within his bones, as if he had finally remembered how to hold it again. And it felt as if it had never left.

“You’re soaking wet. Running with him will make him colder. Let me take him.” There was a smirk in his words. “Besides, I’m faster.”

There was a moment when Daishou’s grip tightened even more, forcing Kuroo’s eyes to fly open instinctively, but he saw only clearly enough to witness him be passed like a child into Tsukishima’s arms. His grip on the boy was different. It was lighter, as if he was afraid to be touching him. As if he pressed too hard with his fingertips and his delicate skin would rupture at the touch. But still he held him firmly, safely, against him. Tsukishima glanced down at Kuroo’s pale face, shaking still, his lips trembling as his teeth chattered uncontrollably. But he did not miss his eyes as they blinked urgently to find vision.

He stared up into Tsukishima’s face, blurred and spotted with darkness, but enough to find the shining honey-colored eyes, narrowed and set with quiet concentration. Everything about his appearance read to Kuroo, even in his weakened form, that he was going to keep him alive. But seeing Tsukishima’s face was not enough for him. If he was going to share any words with the boys, it had to be the only ones which mattered.

“Yellow.” Kuroo’s voice was barely audible, barely a noise came from his throat as he shook.

“What’s he saying, Tsukki?” Daishou was close to him again, leaning over his body as Tsukishima instinctively held him tighter to his chest. “Yellow?”

Tsukishima frowned at Daishou. “Does it matter right now? I’m going.”

But before Tsukishima could sprint away, towards the house, Kuroo croaked his best attempt at a sentence. “Eyes. The trees.”

Tsukishima was frozen in place for half a beat, sharing a glance with Daishou which Kuroo, even in his best health, could not decipher. The pair shared unspoken words, long enough for Tsukishima to regret his hesitation, but fast enough for Kuroo to be unable to notice at which point the blond boy decided to start moving. 

And before he knew it, he was racing across the terrain faster than a blink of an eye, the boy was positioned so that the wind did not whip against his exposed, soaked flesh. He was not any colder than he already was. His mind was unable to conceptualize the speeds at which he moved while pressed against Tsukishima’s chest. He did not try to, but the memory filed itself away, deep down, and was tagged to remind him of the strength vampires held. The strength he did not see, nor understand. But the constant threat of it, showing up in moments of panic and moments of terror. This was one of those moments. There was a threat of death— his death. Again. Wouldn’t it be easier if they would just let him die?

But he didn’t.

Why hadn’t he?

When Kuroo had left the house, it felt as if he had been running for hours through the trees after his yellow prize, but when Tsukishima controlled his speed, it felt like only seconds until he was being brought inside. The heat of the house hit him like a wave of relief, but it was not enough to keep his body from convulsing and his throat from closing up as he tried to wretch over and over again. His arrival sparked chaos within the vampire home. Every soul which stirred within its realm had burst with newfound energy and fear as they, one by one, found him lying cold, dripping wet, and shivering in Tsukishima’s pale arms.

“Tsukki?” Hinata’s voice was pinched, raised, alarmed as it broke through his layer of exhaustion. He had rushed over to Kuroo, pressing his warm hands against his forehead, pushing his frozen pieces of hair off of his face. “Kuroo? Can you hear me? What happened to him, he was sleeping right next to me— how did I—” His voice was unbearably sad. Concerned. As if he had failed and placed all the blame on top of his shoulders.

“Get him to the bedroom. I’ll call Asahi.” Sugawara’s voice was as rigid and strong as it had ever been. “Hinata, get all the blankets from the house and boil some water. We need to get him warm as soon as possible.”

“No, Suga, you help him,” Daichi suggested, he was soft-spoken, but he was not standing near Sugawara. Sugawara did not once acknowledge his words. “I’ll get Asahi over here. He’s on the campus, right? He didn’t leave yet?”

Sugawara did not respond, leaving Hinata to huff as he hurried past Daichi to gather the appropriate materials. “He’s on campus, Daichi.  _ Move _ ,” he retorted, shoving past the dark-haired vampire as Sugawara swiftly traveled alongside Tsukishima to take Kuroo to the bedroom.

It may as well be his bedroom at this rate. Both Tsukishima and Sugawara quickly removed his clothes from his body and draped him in blanket after blanket as they waited for his shivering to stop. It had become so natural at this point, Kuroo wasn’t sure he was able to resist at all.

“What happened, Tsukki?” Sugawara’s voice was hardened, masking whatever emotions he held onto presently. In a crisis, Sugawara was cool and collected, his voice the appropriate amount of direct and authoritative while still holding onto his soft edge.

“He was drowning in the lake. We watched him walk right into it.”

Kuroo was immediately trying to sit up in the bed, pulling at the covers as they were layered atop him, his breathing coming out in ragged and uneven gasps. His muscles were stiff, however coming back to life, he could feel the blood pumping within his veins once again. His movements were slow and weak, allowing for Tsukishima to easily grab onto his forearms, including his wet and heavy casted wrist, and keep him settled to the bed. Kuroo stared at him with wide and terrified eyes, but they only stayed on the blond boy for a moment before he frantically tried to find Sugawara.

“He walked into it?” Sugawara’s voice wavered, confusion touching it.

“Suga—” Kuroo’s voice was scratchy and weak. He was immediately shushed by the silver-haired boy who gracefully danced over to him— or at least, that’s what it looked like to the human— and placed his warm hands along both of Kuroo’s cheeks and held his face, firmly. His eyes were set, still their soft twinkling brown, but with an intensity that should have scared him and instead drew him in deeper. He wished he would have drowned in his eyes instead of the lake he had fallen into.

“Be calm, Kuroo,” Sugawara urgently whispered to the human boy, giving his face a gentle squeeze. Kuroo nodded, finding it incredibly difficult to resist, and noticing immediately the gradual slowing of his racing heart. “We’re going to take care of you. You’re safe with us.”

He nodded again, eager to obey, leaning his face into the silver-haired boy’s touch. He found it harder to lean away from him when he eventually withdrew, turning to Tsukishima and nodding. Tsukishima’s honey eyes were sparkling, but his jaw was set, his mouth pressed into a hard line, watching Kuroo uncomfortably lean back into the bed and pulled the blankets over him. His shivers slowed and his breathing was still shallow, but whatever hold the silver-haired vampire placed upon him seemed to ease him.

“Are you sure you should be doing that to him following a trauma?” Tsukishima hissed softly, releasing the tension in his jaw, and curling his arms around his midsection, standing away from Kuroo. 

Sugawara spun on him and met his eyes with his own wild ones. “Do what? Would you rather us restrain him? Does he really need more vampires forcing him into something he’s afraid of? I’m trying to take some of the pain away from him. Just for a little while.”

Tsukishima swallowed hard and looked away from the older vampire, scowling to himself. Sugawara didn’t look back at him as he returned his attention to the door as it opened, Hinata coming in with warmed water meant to be placed throughout the bed to provide more heat until he was able to function normally again. Hinata did not once look at Sugawara or Tsukishima, instead his eyes were glued to the poor human boy as he sat, his hair defrosted and dripping wet, hanging in his eyes, eyes which were wide and set on Sugawara only.

After the warmth was spread evenly, Hinata found himself sitting on the side of the bed, touching Kuroo’s face with his fingers, trying to draw his attention from Sugawara for a moment to look into his eyes. His pupils were dilated, wide, constantly searching, frozen on Sugawara as he walked. Hinata frowned, his amber eyes flashing with concern. “Suga, did you—?”

“Yes! I did,” The ashy-haired vampire snapped, loudly, cutting the silence, making Hinata jump slightly. “He was frantic, he needed to calm down. I made a choice.”

Hinata opened his mouth to speak, but caught a slight shake of his head from Tsukishima. Instead Hinata frowned and spoke carefully, his words light, as if he was afraid to speak them. “He was pretty weak before this. I think you may have used too much. Suga, look at him, he was barely breathing a moment ago, and now, he can’t take his eyes off of you.”

Tsukishima held his breath, Hinata’s stare unwavering against the long and thoughtful silence that stretched out between him and Sugawara. Eventually, something flickered across his soft brown eyes, something that made Hinata tense in his spot sitting on Kuroo’s bed. Then Sugawara pressed his lips together, his jaw clenched, and he nodded once, rigidly.

“I understand.” 

And he left the room without looking back.

“What’s his problem?” Tsukishima grumbled, so quietly, meant for Hinata alone.

“He fought with Daichi.”

“Ah.”

Kuroo lurched forward, to follow him, but Hinata caught his shoulders and held him. He held him while he pressed, trying to move, but Hinata did not let him go. And soon, the fuzziness in Kuroo’s head cleared, and he was panting, clinging onto Hinata’s arm, staring at him with wild and wide eyes which were his own again. The pull of the allure had lessened to a point where he could breathe on his own, could think his own thoughts, and had the energy to fight the distortion the cold had left him with. When he tried to parse through his mind, navigating all the fried and water-logged bits, he became instantly overwhelmed. And he started crying, crumpling forward, covering his eyes, hiding his face from the onlookers in the room. He couldn’t control his emotions as they poured out of him.

Tsukishima kept his eyes away, giving the pair the privacy they did not ask for, but deserved. Kuroo did not try to move away when Hinata leaned into him and clung onto his shoulders, wounding himself around him as if being close to him was the only comfort he could provide. He pet his hair, and let him sob, waiting for the tears to eventually stop. When they did and Kuroo fell silent again, the only noise in the room was the occasional sniffle. 

After his cry, Kuroo felt as if he had been thoroughly emptied. There was nothing at all within him. No yellow, no black, no water, no nothing. He was empty. And he was exhausted. There was no strength in his body any longer and soon Hinata found the boy to have leaned all of his weight onto him, wiped out. Blank. Weak. It was as if the void which had opened itself up inside of him had finally made its way to his outside and left him barren and desolate as the sleep which had evaded him for so many nights finally decided to return home.

And so the boy slept.

***

When he woke, he was groggy. His mind felt thick with an invisible layer of concrete weighing upon his forehead. His thoughts slurred together as exhaustion pulled at his entire body. He was sore all over, every muscle aching with each small movement he made, his head pounding as he had thoroughly drained the last of whatever energy he held within him. He blinked awake, the room was still dark, the shades had been drawn, and he knew he had no idea what time it was. Or how long he had been asleep. Or where the others were. Or how he ended up dressed again in warm clothes.

He stirred slowly, grimacing as his body screamed at him to stay still for just a little bit longer. His throat was raw and scratchy and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to find his voice at all. But it came to him anyway, small and weak in the darkness. Hoarse. He heard breathing in his room.

“Hello?”

“You’re awake.”

He nearly startled at the voice. Lurking in the darkest corner of the room, farthest away from the dark-haired boy in his bed, were a set of yellow eyes. Staring at him, shining, twinkling. And attached to them was the face of a monster he once knew, but in its place was the face of a troubled boy. His face was tired, he seemed stretched thin, and still, his eyes were hard and narrowed. And his mouth was curled into a faint grimace.

“Daishou,” Kuroo breathed, his eyes widening as he instinctively curled away from him, pressing himself against the pillows as if they would swallow him and protect him from his stare.

Daishou scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, breaking his glare and staring at something else faraway in another corner of the room. “That’s it? No thank you? I dragged your suicidal ass out of the lake for what? For Hinata to yell at me and call me an idiot? To get glared at by Sugawara and threatened by Daichi?”

Kuroo’s mouth couldn’t move. He couldn’t move an inch as the creeping feeling of fear, the one he held so familiarly to his chest, started growing from within him again. But his eyes were still wide, watching the green-haired boy from his bed, and wondering what was going to happen next. If he wasn’t so shocked, so overwhelmed by his sudden appearance, his monologue would have been comical.

“Do you know how fucking annoying you are, Kuroo? I worked so hard giving you space while simultaneously exposing myself to your  _ stupid  _ scent so I wouldn’t decide to  _ take a bite out of you _ . And I’m finally at a point where I feel comfortable returning to campus— Suga said I could’ve come back a few weeks ago, but I didn’t, right? Because I wanted to be sure— and you decide to fucking  _ throw  _ yourself in a lake? How  _ stupid _ can you be?” 

Kuroo couldn’t move at all. The fear kept growing. Daishou huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Now, I’m yelling at some stupid human while he’s in some fucking post-hypothermic trance. God, Daishou, can you be any more of an asshole?” The green-haired boy turned his attention to Kuroo again and held his gaze. “Hello, earth to Kuroo. Is anybody home? Did you lose those final three brain cells of yours when you were drowning?”

Kuroo released a pathetic squeak as his fingers wound tight into the fabric of the bed sheets. Daishou stared at him, baffled, his wild eyes fierce and judgmental.

“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got left? Damn, Hinata is really going to kick my ass later, huh.” He ran his hand through his hair and puffed his chest with the deep breath he took. “Come on, kid. You have to give me something here. Sugawara didn’t want me in here when you woke up, but Tsukishima— the fucking asshole, himself— vouched for me. He said I could do it. You have to give me something here. I don’t even care if you spit on me at this point. I haven’t  _ really  _ seen you since—” he stopped himself. His expression softened, but only slightly. His voice lowered. “I hope I’m not talking to a walking corpse right now. Come on, kid. Anything.”

The fear felt like hands around his throat. Staring at the yellow eyes he had searched for so desperately, without reason, without cause. They held all the yellow he could ever want in his life. And they belonged to the very monster who had stolen it all from him. And here he was. Right there. Before him.

Daishou’s grimace on his mouth deepened and he closed his eyes as he spoke, quietly. “Please, give me something. Let me know I didn’t kill that blazing fire inside you. Please,  _ please _ .”

When Kuroo didn’t respond, Daishou sighed. And it was the most dejected sound he could have ever heard coming past the green-haired boy’s lips.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he whispered, more to himself than to the human before him. For a moment, pain crossed his eyes, but it was gone instantly and he was looking at the boy, his jaw set and his eyes hard. Another wall built up around him. “I’m sorry, Kuroo. I’ll get Asahi back in here.”

He turned to leave, taking all of his yellow with him. 

How many days did it take for a person to move on?

Before Daishou could turn the knob on the door, Kuroo’s voice carried to his ears. Small. Soft.

“I didn’t want to die.”

Daishou looked over his shoulder to see Kuroo staring at him, his eyes welling again with a touch of wetness to them. Kuroo’s shoulders trembled, but not with fear. Not this time. His voice grew stronger despite its fragile sound.

“I didn’t want to die, Daishou,” he said. His name felt unfamiliar on his lips, but Daishou’s eyes flickered to life at the sound of it. “Thank you for not letting me.”

His grin was snarky, wicked, and tantalizing, but it was not cruel. “It’s the least I could do, all things considered.”

Kuroo laughed, despite himself. 


	15. sadness. anger.

“What happened to you?”

His voice had generated strength, but only barely. His words sounded like a pitiful croak in the darkness, his vocal cords strained and aching with every swallow he dared to take. It took a swelling of energy he did not have to get his voice to work, but he didn’t care. He was not going to let the feeling of simple exhaustion weighing down on him keep him from missing these moments. He had not seen the yellow-eyed boy and his share of scowls and snickers of mischief in days— too many days— and he was not going to let sleep, the one thing which evaded him during all of those days, overcome him now.

He watched the boy with wide and innocent eyes, trying to take in his slender form in the darkness as he moved like a snake, slipping into the darkest corners and leaning against the wall. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes twinkling in the darkness, shining in the same way the ones from the forest did, however his was softer than the ones he remembered. They were even softer than the stars in the black sky. The ones which burned him.

And Daishou watched him too, curiously, as if the dark-haired boy had remained an enigma to him even after all of this time. Why wouldn’t he be? He was the boy he had fallen to, the boy who had—without even trying— destroyed years of hard work and self control just by existing and made him wonder if he could ever be as strong as he used to be. Based on the smirk which lingered on his lips, the faint reminder of a scowl tugging at the ends, the vampire still held onto an unachievable presence of never once doubting himself in his entire life. Kuroo wondered if it had faltered recently.

“What happened to me?” he scoffed. “What happened to you? I found you at the bottom of a lake tonight.”

Kuroo remembered the rush of water over his head, the screaming of his limbs, the deafening noise of his heart pounding in his chest. A grimace twisted onto his face as he resisted the urge to once again bury his head in his hands and weep. The stinging behind his eyes reminded him of his sadness, of the pain he had endured, and how truly destructible his body was. Where had he kept these feelings for so long? He pushed them far away and focused his eyes on the stars, waiting for them to come out to him, to shine for him, to twinkle for him. And when the yellow had returned to him, and the yellow stared at him in the darkness of this bedroom, with his pretty mouth upturned into an arrogant smirk, the feelings returned to him at last. Like a rush of water over his head.

What more could he take? Would it ever end?

No.

“Can you please answer my question?” The words struggled through clenched teeth, his honey-brown eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Only so that the vampire would not get lost in the darkness. “What happened to you, Daishou?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I left.” Daishou’s voice was tight in his throat, like it pained him to talk to the human boy in this way. Casually. Softly. Intimately. Being in the dark, despite their distance, their voices were the only things connecting them. “I had to leave.”

Kuroo’s fingers wound in the sheets of the bed, but not from the fear. Not from the anxiety. Maybe it was from the sadness— yes, that’s what it was. It was sadness which expanded within him like an endless void. Sadness in his bones. Sadness in his body. Sadness.

Kuroo was sad about his friends and leaving them.

Kuroo was sad about his misfortune, his broken arm, and splintered spirit.

Kuroo was sad about Daishou and forcing him out of a place he called home.

Away from his friends. His family.

Kuroo was sad. He was so sad.

“Where’d you go?” he asked, quietly.

“Anywhere except here.” Daishou scowled. Through the darkness, his face twisted with some kind of emotion that Kuroo could not see. It was too dark. Too fleeting. He was sad that he could not see his face. “You left your scent everywhere here. Even when I tried to come back, it was like I was slowly burning my skin off.”

Kuroo winced, but he did not know why his immediate reaction was to feel sorry. No— that was not true. He knew exactly why he felt guilty, why his soft and tear stained cheeks reddened with shame. “I took your home from you.”

Daishou’s grin was thin, his wicked and venomous eyes shifted from distant dryness to an unsettling weariness. The kind of weariness a man held in the wrinkles of his aged skin and stored his darkest secrets, stored his troubles. But Daishou was not a man with wrinkled skin. He was young with flashing and violent eyes. And still his years could be seen. He did not look like this before. “I took a lot more from you, Kuroo.”

Kuroo dropped the green-haired boy’s gaze, finding the burning sensation of shame beginning to become unbearable. He bit his lip to keep it from trembling, the sadness swelling in his chest like a heavy weight trying to find an exit, threatening to burst from within him. His hands were tightened into fists, trying to tolerate the overwhelming feeling of sadness. Yes, that’s what it was. Sadness.

“I stayed away because I didn’t want to take any more from you,” Daishou said, offering only the slightest shrug of shoulders. “It wasn’t too bad. I made myself another home for a while.”

“Does it still hurt you?” Kuroo asked, a murmur in the dark room. “Being here with me?”

He shook his head, his yellow eyes taking in Kuroo’s appearance almost as if it were the first time he had seen him since he had brought him inside. Kuroo’s haphazard hair, sticking up in weird ways, black like the night sky, his once-warm eyes now jaded and empty. His thin face with his sharpened angles from his countless sleepless nights and his wishful watching of the starless skies. He was not the boy Daishou had seen that one long ago day, and still, Daishou found it difficult to look away. “Not like it used to.”

And still, Kuroo grimaced and it seemed the sadness had made its appearance known in the hollows of his cheeks and the heaviness under his eyes.

“Stop doing that, Kuroo.” Daishou’s voice raised, slightly. Kuroo winced again. “Stop acting like this is your fault. Stop acting like you did something wrong.”

Kuroo shied away from him. Daishou had taken a step closer, still concealed in shadows, a figure of darkness, his features fading in and out of definition and a whisper.

“If I had known, Daishou, I wouldn’t have pushed you so hard. I wouldn’t have—”

It was Daishou’s turn to turn away, averting his eyes from the bedridden boy. His shoulders tensed and there was a bitter laugh ripped from his chest, broken and uneven. Daishou didn’t look back when he spoke again.

“So you would have preferred I just outright approached you? Hey hot stuff, I’m a vampire and your blood is the most intoxicating scent I have ever experienced. So much so that after I tasted it, I couldn’t get within a mile radius of you without losing my mind.” Daishou hissed, quietly, his words thick with sarcasm. “You know that was never an option. If you had known, would you have even approached me at all?”

Kuroo pulled the blankets closer to him as he felt the burn of tears behind his eyes again. He grit his teeth. How could he have any tears left to cry? Why was the sadness so heavy? Why was it burdening his shoulders with every shuddering breath he took? 

“Were you lonely?” His eyes widened slightly as he feared the boy’s answer, ready to place another heavy weight upon his already weakened shoulders, but his his throat and lungs began to ache, a reminder of the trauma they had experienced as he drifted in that forsaken black lake, and he started to cough again.

He crumpled forward as his chest shook and trembled with every loud cough as it tore past his lips, causing his lungs to ache and sting with a familiar burn he had felt not too long ago. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes as his throat split with pain and his head started to fill with pressure causing his vision to go blurry with tears. He began to wobble, a sensation of unsteadiness washing over him as he slumped over in the bed.

Suddenly, a hand found his arm, pressing gingerly against him, pushing him back upright and against his pillows. So that he could feel comfortable again. So that his body would rest. And he wheezed and whimpered despite himself, earning the softest squeeze of reassurance and a gentle hum of a voice shushing him kindly. Another hand touched the soft spot by his ear where his black hair touched his cheek.

And Kuroo found himself leaning into the touch. The same touch which once left him broken and bruised.

“I don’t understand you,” Daishou whispered to him, so close Kuroo’s heart began to race in his chest as he blinked away the tears and fuzziness of his sight. Daishou’s brows were furrowed, an expression meant for confusion, and often on his face, frustration. But it was neither of those things. His forehead was creased with concern. “I pulled you out of a lake not three hours ago and you’re only worried about me.”

He was sitting against the edge of the bed, leaning over Kuroo as he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and crushed his eyes as he waited for the pain to pass. He shuddered once and reopened his eyes to find the vampire boy staring at him, his yellow eyes wide and curious with his head tilted to the side. He wondered what the boy was thinking. What he was feeling. When was the last time they had been so close?

The night. That long ago night.

How many days did it take to carry on?

Kuroo froze before him as he tasted blood on his tongue, but it was not the same crippling fear he had felt once before. The chilling terror which paralyzed his limbs was absent and instead he only felt his heart pounding in his chest. Words escaped him, slipping through threaded fingers, leaving him with only breath as it fell past his parted lips in tiny rasps.

“Why did I pull you out of that lake?” Daishou asked, softly to the boy. He moved his fingers in Kuroo’s hair, lightly, with just the fingertips. “What happened to you, Kuroo?”

“I was looking for you,” he answered, his voice small.

Daishou chuckled, rumbling in his chest as his head tilted even further. Something flickered across his eyes, a light of some kind, something Kuroo did not understand.

“What made you think I’d be at the bottom of a lake?”

Kuroo tried to lower his head in shame, but the green-haired boy did not let him, grabbing onto his chin with his hand and keep his gaze steadied. The action startled Kuroo, causing him to take in a sharp breath, his shoulders tensing at the sudden movement. He wanted to pull his face away, but Daishou’s expression had darkened, his jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed.

“None of that right now,” he grumbled. “Just talk to me. What happened?”

“I saw eyes,” he whispered.

“Eyes?” Daishou puzzled, releasing his hand from Kuroo’s face and leaning away from him. For a moment, Kuroo thought he saw Daishou’s shoulders relax as he created distance between them. He wondered what he was going through being so close. 

Was it all an experiment? A test of strength?

Was this all it was?

The thought of Kuroo being only a test of willpower sent a chill down his spine, but he did not understand why.

“I saw yellow eyes,” he said. “I followed them. I didn’t know the water was there.”

Daishou frowned. “I don’t understand.”

The memory was fuzzy as he tried to think back, tried to piece together his thoughts as they had occurred, tried to recall the fire which had coursed through his entire body as he raced through the trees. He tried to remember, but found when he reflected only the sensation of water rushing over his head and the screaming of his lungs as he drowned. He could not remember what possessed him to sprint over the snowy banks disregarding the shouting of his limbs and the striking coldness as it pierced through his thin layer of clothes and chilled his very core.

He remembered seeing the eyes, like flickering lights, in the trees. And then he remembered drowning. Nothing else.

“There was something in the trees.”

Daishou’s jaw clenched. “Are you sure you saw something out there? When I pulled you out you were adamant to tell me about these yellow eyes.”

Kuroo had not been scared before. He did not remember fear. Not while he was running, not while he was ignoring the pleas of his body to go back home, to escape the winter night, to escape the sense of being watched. Of being observed. But now, as he stared into the exact yellow eyes he had been searching for, a creeping fear started to climb up his arms and settle in the pit of his stomach like a weight. These eyes, these wonderful and wicked eyes, were not the same ones he had chased. Who did the others belong to?

Daishou must have seen the realization cross his face and he released the breath he had been holding. It was Daishou’s turn to turn away, facing the wall, allowing Kuroo the moment to watch his profile with hesitant and anxious eyes. His hands were in his lap, clenched into small fists, and despite his attempts to hide his distress, Kuroo could tell by the tension in his shoulders and the grit of his teeth that unpleasant thoughts had filtered into his mind. Kuroo longed to reach out, to touch his arm as he had done to him, but decided against it, out of fear that he may snap back at him.

“Daishou?” he whispered, leaning forward, just barely, enough to be a fraction closer to the vampire. “What are you thinking?”

His eyes slid over to him, sideways, and his mouth curled into a smirk. “What, indeed?”

Heat flashed upon the tops of his cheeks. “Do you need to take space? Am I becoming too much for you?”

Daishou suddenly whirled to look at him, his eyes wide and alight with emotion, while his mouth fell open in surprise. His tone was hard, causing Kuroo to flinch away from him, grabbing at the end of the blankets as if they offered some kind of protection against the edge the green-haired vampire held over him. As if it were a shield of invincibility, fallible and frail, meant to keep the beast before him at bay. Then, Daishou grinned, widely, wickedly.

“What did I do to you?” he mused. “What happened to your unabashed boldness?”

In another world, Kuroo would have laughed. In a moment before that one dark night, he would have snickered and shoved the vampire off his bed. But in this moment, the moment when sadness sat within him as if it was the only thing he knew how to feel, the last of his shield of invincibility crumbled away. Whatever pieces remained in tact no longer existed and he was the most vulnerable he had ever been.

He leaned forward and reached out with his shaky hand, to touch his forearm as it sat in his lap. Daishou flinched, but ultimately, did not withdraw away from him. His shoulders were tense and his breath whistled between his clenched teeth, but his eyes were unwavering, watching Kuroo curiously as he tried to stay as still as possible.

“I’m afraid you’ll disappear again,” he said.

Perhaps it was the greed in him, the longing desire to keep the yellow from fading away. He felt like he was floating on that black ocean again, staring up at the twinkling stars, and reaching for the stars as if he had a right to take one of them away. Kuroo tightened his grip on his arm.

Daishou moved to say something, as if he were compelled, the hint of a grin still on his mouth, but before words could escape, the door to the bedroom slammed open.

Hinata stood at the entrance, his amber eyes set ablaze with rage, his mouth twisted into a scowl as his fingers gripped the handle of the door.

“You said you would get me when he woke up,” Hinata spat. “And not a moment later. What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Daishou?”

Daishou grinned at him, the mischievous glint in his eye returning, making his eyes sparkle with life. They were brighter now, glaring back at Hinata, while Kuroo quietly withdrew his hands, hiding them underneath the covers like a child who had done something wrong. But Hinata wasn’t looking at him, he was too busy drilling daggers of brazen rage at the green-haired vampire, scrutinizing how close he sat to Kuroo on the bed, where his hands rested in his lap, still warm from Kuroo’s hands, and how his white teeth glimmered in the light shining into the bedroom from the hall.

“What’s wrong, shorty?” Daishou taunted. “Afraid I’ll steal your pretty little human from you again?”

“Steal him?” Hinata’s expression darkened, shutting the door behind him, enclosing the room in a layer of darkness again. “You almost killed him.”

Kuroo winced. Daishou only snickered where he sat.

“And yet, here we are.” Daishou’s eyes flickered back to Kuroo’s face, which was flushing a soft pink color at the tops of his cheeks and ends of his ears as he gathered up the blankets even more, pulling it up closer over his chest. He shook his head, allowing his long black hair to fall into his eyes so that he would not have to face the boys in the room. Daishou’s smile faltered, its natural arrogance fading away and being replaced with a feathering of admiration. “He’s okay, isn’t he?”

Hinata looked at Kuroo, his breath shuddering in his chest, as if he was frustrated with his rise of anger, his misplaced emotions, when his dear friend suffered. Whatever feelings he held towards Daishou, they had been paused, as the orange-haired boy swiftly found himself at Kuroo’s side again, placing the back of his hand against his forehead, earning a disgruntled huff in response.

“I’m okay, Hinata,” Kuroo sighed, trying to swat his hand again. “I’m just groggy, that’s all. And pretty sore.”

Hinata offered him a small smile and nodded, ignoring Daishou’s chuckles beside him. 

“Your eyes are so swollen,” he observed, a hint of worry touching his words. Kuroo tried to pull his face away, hiding his red and swollen eyes, the result of his previous weeping. “Do you want to sleep more? Did Daishou wake you up? Don’t worry about your friends, you left your phone here. I texted them for you that you’re not feeling well.”

“Thanks for that,” Kuroo hummed. “Seriously, Hinata, I’m fine.”

Hinata’s face scrunched up, like he did not believe a word he was saying, and his fingers tightened into fists at his side as his hands fell away from the dark-haired boy. He glanced at Daishou and back to Kuroo, tension building in his shoulders.

“Asahi has food for you if you’re feeling up for eating,” he continued, peering at the nightstand where a cup sat untouched. “Have you had any water recently?”

“I think he’s had plenty of water.” Daishou laughed, earning a furious look from Hinata. 

Kuroo stifled his own smirk, missing the exasperated expression of the amber-eyed boy as he handed the cup of water to Kuroo, not giving him the choice to not take it into his hands and sip from it. Daishou chuckled quietly, crossing his arms over his chest as he found his place against the wall on the other side of the room. There was a slight tension in his shoulder, so subtle Kuroo’s human eyes would be unable to pick up on it without hyper fixation. But, Kuroo’s eyes were trained on the green-haired boy as he sipped from the cup, slowly, carefully, with Hinata’s hand guiding it to my lips. Kuroo noticed the edge in his appearance, the muted presence of overwhelming certainty— and Kuroo knew that perhaps, because of what had happened those many nights ago, Daishou was not certain of himself. Not how he used to be.

Daishou’s calculating eyes slid over to him, meeting his honeyed-brown, and his tongue snaked out to rewet his lips, curling into a knowing grin, flashing just for a moment his razor sharp teeth.

Kuroo choked on the water and fell into another coughing fit. The kind of coughing fit which reminded him of the sensation of the water getting caught into his throat had his eyes widening in fear and his hands to instinctively reach out and grab onto Hinata. The kind of terror which had his vision fading, black spots liberating his field of view, and causing him to wobble, his lungs screaming in phantom pain as his fingernails clawed onto the smaller boy’s arms to keep himself above water in a lake which did not exist.

Tears touched the corners of his eyes despite himself and as the coughing faded, Hinata curled himself around his shoulders, mumbling quiet reassuring noises as he held him tight.

“You’re okay, Kuroo, you’re safe here,” he hummed. “We’ll take care of you now. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“I feel like I’m going to be sick,” Kuroo groaned, softly, into Hinata’s shoulder where he had pressed his forehead. 

Hinata pressed a hand into Kuroo’s hair, petting him, his mouth turned into a sad frown, wishing his friend did not have to hurt this way, wishing he could pull the misery straight from his bones and replace his own with its darkness. Daishou had moved closer to the bed during the fit, his own face twisted with annoyance, but his eyes revealed a lurking concern for the human boy. Perhaps out of pity, perhaps out of guilt, perhaps as an observation of another sick and dying animal.

“Why do you treat him like that?” Daishou grumbled. “He’s not going to fall apart and disappear into thin air, Hinata.”

Hinata’s amber eyes flashed with anger. “Do you think you could be useful and get Asahi? I think he brought soup back with him.”

“You don’t have to coddle him, he’s fine,” he said, ignoring Hinata’s comments. “What’s the worst that could happen to him? He dies?”

Hinata’s eyes widened.

“They will all die, Hinata. Every single one of them.” His yellow eyes snapped over to Kuroo’s. The human boy had peeled himself away from the orange-haired boy, pressing his back into the uprighted pillows, as if he could submerge into them, disappearing from the dangerous tones of the bedroom. If he could escape, legs willing, Daishou knew that he would have tried already and grinned in response. “Even this one will die too. You can’t prevent it.”

Kuroo struggled to keep his attention on the pair in the room with him, his breath coming out in shallow, ragged breaths again, his head started to spin. He tried to focus on their words, to follow their conversation, to contribute, to defend himself, to do anything to remind them that he was still an active member of this debate. But he could not find the strength. Instead of strength in his limbs, he found weakness and the scattered remnants of his water-logged body. His stomach lurched, twisting uncomfortably, causing a soft groan to slip between his clenched teeth.

“Not this again,” he hissed. “I’m not having this conversation in front of him. Not now.”

“What are you protecting him from? What else is there that could hurt him? He’s seen the worst parts of this world and he’s, what, existed for barely two decades?” Daishou growled, suddenly his presence growing about him. His once small and uncertain slump of shoulders swelled as his energy shifted from quiet observation to striking confrontation. “Death follows him like a shadow. Your gentle pets, your tiny coos of love, and promises of protection? They won’t save him when his time runs out.”

Hinata did not respond to the green-haired boy. Daishou’s teeth flashed venomously at Hinata, his eyes widening with an edge of wildness to it, taunting, teasing, trying to elicit a reaction from the shorter vampire. Hinata’s fists were clenched at his sides, his small figure trembling slightly. He lowered his head, hair falling in his eyes, a grimace on his face. Kuroo thought that Hinata was never going to speak again, but something else happened. Something shifted.

“Why can’t I try?” Hinata squeaked, his voice barely audible. “He’s my friend. I want to try.”

Daishou scoffed. “It’s going to get you killed.”

“I feel really nauseous,” Kuroo groaned, softly to himself, placing his unsteady hands onto his forehead and swaying with the rest of the room. No one even looked his way.

Hinata looked like he wanted to say something else, but his mouth did not move. Behind his shining amber eyes, the light which made them so easy to hold, the burning glow of livelihood, of an indescribable warmth, flickered out. For a brief second, a flash in time, the kind of moment which comes as quickly as it goes, a blink on the spectrum of eternity, Kuroo saw the years Hinata hid behind his eyes. The kind of life he did not ask for. One which ended too abruptly and too painfully.

How old was this boy before him?

What happened to him?

Despite how he presented, how warm, and lively he was. How unbearably human he seemed— he was not that. He was not a human, not anymore, not ever again.

“I’m already dead, Daishou.”

He was a monster, just like Daishou. Just like the rest of them.

“You weren’t dead when Kageyama was here.”

Kuroo hunched over in the bed and vomited onto his lap.

***

Asahi came shortly after that, helping Kuroo out of the bed and onto unsteady legs. He showered him, ignoring Hinata and Daishou’s requests to help, making them take care of the mess made on the bed earning a chorus of grumbles and stabbing remarks. Kuroo trembled against Asahi who held him with his strong arms, not letting him droop or stumble once. Offering him a set of clean clothes, smelling strongly of clean linens and warm from a dryer. It was more than enough for a warmth to spread across his body, turning his skin pink from the heat of the shower, and safe from the soft clothes.

When the bed was prepared with fresh sheets, he helped Kuroo climb in, allowed him some time to eat a bowl of broth and sip on some liquids, enough to settle his stomach. Enough to give him enough strength just for it to fade into exhaustion and soon, he slept again. It was quick and harmless, his fade into the ether of sleep. A dreamless sleep meant for those with the heaviest burden on their shoulders. This was the best thing he could have had, the kind of sleep which healed his body, soothed his aching muscles, healed his mind, covered the creases of anxiety and worry with its warm blanket of blackness, and healed his thoughts, erasing the mention of death, the thoughts of how close he had come, and how it would continue to come as he existed within this world of monsters.

The kind of sleep, so heavy, that when he woke up, he could not remember the events which led up to him falling asleep. He stared at the dark ceiling, the only light filtering in like a thin bright stripe of yellow, shimmering and shining on the wall as it peeked out from behind a slit in the curtain from the window. Was the sun coming up? Was the sun going down? 

He groggily reached over to the nightstand, took a sip of water, carefully, and found his phone scrolling through the messages left by his friends. The light of his phone made his eyes strain, so he did not spend too much time responding to messages, most of which were from Akaashi asking if he needed him to bring him some dinner over, another was from Kenma observing that he was, in fact, not in his apartment at all, and a couple of video messages from Bokuto completely ignoring his illness and reporting live from somewhere under his bed as he tried to scare Akaashi when he arrived. Still, a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth and he pressed his face happily into the pillow.

He had to get out of this house soon. But he could feel the stirrings of a cold brewing deep in his lungs and lingering at the edge of his head. A sickness was upon him, the kind of sickness he knew his lungs were going to suffer from. He wondered if the vampires would let him leave like this— after everything, he wondered how much agency over his own life they would allow him.

How did it come to this? Did he have to rely so heavily on the creatures of the night that he could not go where he pleased anymore without their protective and watchful eyes? It was not like he did not appreciate their attention, especially when it mattered the most— like when he finds himself at the hand of a vicious and bloody beast or at the bottom of a freezing lake. He, simply, was not the boy he used to be before he had been exposed to this dark and dangerous land of vampires. Before, he was bold. So bold that even Daishou missed the fire that burned behind his eyes. Before, he was brave. So brave that he might have reached out to Daishou sooner when he had touched his chin with his soft fingers. Before, he possessed all the yellow the land had to offer, all the yellow the stars twinkled with. And now, he had not a single drop.

But he knew he could take some back.

He had to take some back.

But, instead, the slow creeping of sadness touched him again and he found himself slipping back into the state of emptiness as it expanded within his chest. He wished, solemnly, that he had never met the vampires, but found that not to be wholly true. He found that wishing their existence away urged another thought in his dark and damaged mind:  _ You can be rebuilt. _

The planted seed.

His mind slowly returned to the conversation between Daishou and Hinata, thoughts lingering on when each boy meant, wondering who he agreed with. How could he align himself with Daishou when he was just a simple human? He wasn’t completely wrong… he would die one day. And based on his current track record, death did not seem so far away to him. Should he start thinking about a morbid thing as death? And what was he to the vampires, these creatures of eternal darkness… when he was just a blink in their forever existence?

What was Hinata trying to do?

And why was he trying so hard?

Kuroo groaned into the pillow, laying there for a while, waiting to see if any of the residents of the home had heard his return to wakefulness. He wondered if any of them had another show they would like to put on before him despite his wishes.

More importantly, he wondered where Daishou had gone.

He wondered if he could see him again.

Maybe, his sadness would fade away if he found him. Maybe, he could be the one to rebuild him in spite of his destruction. 

The boy began to pull the blankets off of himself, climbing out of bed with a timid pace, fearful of his weak limbs collapsing underneath him. He stepped with shy steps, leaning his weight onto his feet as carefully as he could. He immediately noticed the strain in his thighs, the aching of his muscles that had not fully recovered from the trauma they endured. He winced with every step, moving slowly, every breath feeling as if his chest was going to explode under all the pressure. What felt like an eternity later, he finally pushed open the door, eager to pad through the large house again, hoping to find who he was looking for.

He moved through the halls at a snail's pace, his throat too raw and ragged to call out for someone, not wanting all the unwanted attention involved with alerting the residents of the home of his presence. He knew that if everyone was aware he was awake, he was certain Nishinoya and Hinata would return to his bedside with their overeager grins and their carrying voices. He did not want that right now.

After poking his head into certain bedrooms and empty sitting areas, he wondered if he had been left alone. It wasn’t until he came across a separate hallway, branching off one of the second floor sitting areas, leading down a small flight of stairs, that he came to hear voices. It was not just one voice, but many. And the voices sounded unhappy, sharp in tone, some strained and anxious, others calm and collected. And they belonged to all the vampires.

Every single one of them. Kuroo came as close as he could, leaning against the door to catch what they were saying.

“I circled back from where we came twice. I even expanded my search five more miles than even feasible for a human’s sight in the condition he was in.” It was Daishou’s voice, firm and transparent, not clouded by a smirk or the hint of taunt. It surprised Kuroo to hear him like this, as if he were addressing authority, as if he wasn’t the toughest in the room anymore. As if he had something to lose. “Whatever he saw, there’s no way it was able to disappear by the time I pulled him out of the water.”

What were they talking about? Were they talking about him?

“We watched him walk into the lake, Sugawara.” Tsukishima spoke in a low, serious tone. His typically bored and impassive voice had hardened throughout the conversation, forcing his words into the air to stress their importance. “Nothing spoke to him. There was nothing pulling him into the water. Nothing was chasing him. He just… fell in.”

“Could you see where he was looking? What did his expression look like?” Sugawara asked, his voice tight in his throat. “I want to know if there was a chance of somebody’s allure was working against him.”

“That’s impossible, Suga. No one’s allure is as powerful as yours. None of the others could have come close to what you are capable of. I know what you’re thinking and—” Daichi had spoken next, his words laced with concern, attempting to soothe the silver-haired boy from where he stood which sounded as if he were a distance away. 

Sugawara was having none of it.

“You have no idea what I’m thinking,” Sugawara snapped, his words as sharp as knives.

The room fell silent.

“It’s likely he did not see anything at all,” Asahi said, slowly, thoughtfully, weighing the gravity of his words on his tongue before he spoke them into existence. “With the intensity of the cold and the state of his mind,” he paused. “It is a possibility he did not see anything in the woods.”

“He hasn’t been sleeping,” Hinata commented, his voice small, tiny in comparison to the rest of the room. “I thought he had fallen asleep with me, but I was wrong. I don’t know how he slipped away.”

They thought he was crazy. They did not believe him.

They thought he was hallucinating.

Chasing delusions into the cold winter night like a broken child with a fragmented mind.

They thought he was mad.

His heart began to race in his chest.

“And if that assumption is wrong?” Sugawara nearly growled, his voice so low in his throat, the agitation so plain in his words, Kuroo nearly flinched against the door. “How can you be so certain of his state of mind, Asahi? Have you assessed him? Peered into his soul and deemed an episode of psychosis the only answer?”

There was no response for a long time and Kuroo’s chest ached with fear as it struck him suddenly. The room was so quiet he was certain the vampires on the other side of the door had heard his shallow breaths as panic built up inside him like a terrifying wall meant to shatter and ruin everything around him. His thoughts felt like puddles of thick cement as he tried to walk through it with his bruised limbs getting stuck after every step. But he bit his lip to hold his breath, to keep still despite his subtle tremble.

“What if it isn’t psychosis?” Hinata said, sadly. Quietly. As if he were speaking to ground alone. As if he was afraid of his thoughts turning into words turning into reality. “What if he meant to end up in the lake?”

“What are you saying, Hinata?” Nishinoya retorted, his voice hard. Angry. “What the fuck are you implying?”

There was a rustle of movement, a hand on a shoulder, and a hum of one lover to another. “Stay seated, love,” Asahi had whispered.

“Speak, Hinata,” Sugawara said, an icy chill in his voice. The kind of chill one would find in the dead of night during the depths of winter in the middle of a blizzard meant to blind. Meant to kill.

“Don’t make me say it out loud, please,” the amber-eyed boy murmured.

“If you aren’t willing to accuse him of it, then why’d you bring it up at all?” Nishinoya cried, standing again, a chain scraping hard against the floor, his voice rising in volume. “Do you even understand the gravity of that accusation?”

“But if there was nothing in the woods,” Tanaka added, his voice gruff. “What else would he be doing out there by himself? No coat? No shoes? He left his phone here, Nishinoya.”

“Do any of us know what it feels like to survive a vampire attack? What can it do to your mind?” Asahi mused, softly. “How must he feel existing in this in between world of monster and man and not having a soul to share it with? The burden on his shoulders must be greater than the weight on our own.”

“Have we overburdened him with our expectations of him?” Daichi asked, quietly into their shared space. “We’ve never done this before, Suga, we may have messed it all up.”

There was a low growl and an even lower voice, “This is the risk you all run for pretending he belongs in our world. Like a peer. Like a pet.” It was Daishou. “If its worth anything to you all, I believe him.”

“You believe him? Blindly? Without proof or trace of any creature lurking in the shadows of the woods?” Sugawara replied.

“Daishou, you don’t understand,” the voice was weak, the smallest in the room, tied to the soft gasping noise of a sob. “He’s been… bad… since the attack. The way he carries himself isn’t the same. He looks so sad all the time, like he’s been waiting for something for so long and it has never come to him. I’ve tried so many times to help him, to be there for him, and I’m never enough. I want to be wrong, but I can’t—”

“Speak plainly, Hinata,” Sugawara snarled, so intensely the air of the room shifted. “What do you mean?”

More soft cries. “I want to be wrong. Don’t make me say any more on it, sir. Please don’t make me. I want to be  _ wrong _ .”

“You did not see him the way I did,” Daishou snapped. “He isn’t like the other humans. The others are so fragile, like holding a small delicate animal in your hands. Every human we’ve interacted with we hold onto them lightly, but with Kuroo, we pressed too hard. And he still hasn’t broken. There’s a piece missing with him. He’s too bold. He’s too strong. He didn’t want to die, he told me. I believe him when he says he saw something in those trees, and I’m afraid that something saw him back.”

“And you didn’t see him after you tried to kill him!” Hinata near shouted, voice raising, pinched and high in his throat. “He didn’t want to die then, either!”

“I didn’t kill him,” Daishou growled in response.

“You realize if you had just let him drown in that lake, Daishou, this would not be our problem,” Sugawara said, his tone suddenly soft, kind, and with it, strangely terrifying. Pulling the air directly from the lungs of his onlookers. “If you had just ripped out his neck in that alleyway, he would not exist in our world at all. He would have been another human dead by the wrath of a bloodthirsty vampire.”

Daishou held his breath, too.

“So why is it  _ we  _ are the weak ones for believing so strongly in humanity? Yet, you are willing to defend just this one. Against all the evidence. Why him, Daishou?” Sugawara continued.

Silence.

“Why did you hesitate?”

This question was not meant for Kuroo to hear, it was not meant to be tacked onto the conversation at hand. It was a loaded question, its sole function decided by Sugawara and Sugawara alone, but it was too late. He had heard enough. He was not able to separate his thoughts from the reaction in his body.

Kuroo could hear the roaring of his heartbeat in his ears and he wondered if the others in the room could do. His head was spinning, his breath sounded too loud and too out of place, and he felt like his legs were going to collapse underneath him. Everything in his body, down to the finest fiber of muscle which pieced him together trembled, his sweaty fingers grasped at the door to keep himself from tumbling to the ground. He wanted to run away, to pretend he never heard the words of the vampires clearly meant to be shared in secret. But he could not break away from the door. He could not turn his back.

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to cry.

Because it was not sadness expanding itself within him like an endless voice. No— this was not that. This was something heavier, something richer in sensation, making all the hairs on his arms stand on end with anticipation. He saw red. Red everywhere. Violent and dangerous red.

His teeth clenched as he resisted the urge to bang his fist on the door.

He was angry.

“What do you think, Tsukki?” Daichi asked, quietly, breaking the tension as it deepened between Daishou and Sugawara. “You were there too.”

Tsukishima sighed, dramatically. “Personally, I believe he saw something in the trees. And, I think we should ask Kuroo what he thinks about all of this.”

The room stared at him, in confusion, in silence.

Another sigh. “It’s a bit unfair he has to listen to us through a door while we debate whether or not he had intentions to throw himself into a lake or if he is just batshit mad.”

“What?” Hinata gasped.

Chairs scraped against the floor, some falling back with a loud crash, while others stayed in place. Kuroo’s shaking hands wrapped firmly around the doorknob and he finally released the angry sob he had choked down to hide his presence. It was evident someone was rushing to the door to open it but Kuroo was not going to give them the satisfaction.

In one quick motion, he threw open the door and exposed the room of vampires.

“You think I’m lying to you?” He spat, voice coming out in gasping breaths, heart thrumming in his chest, eye wide. Accusing. Angry. “You think I’m crazy? You think I wanted to die?”

He found Hinata’s eyes first.

He was so angry.


	16. A planted seed blooms.

The anger had been enough to turn his vision dangerous red and his blood to boil in his veins. It had been enough to course through his body like electricity, igniting his muscles in spasms of white hot heat, burning through him like a violent volcano spreading its magma across the surface of a green plain and leaving black char behind it. It had been enough to force his hands into clenched fists, squeezing so tight his nails left indentions in his palm, so tight his injured wrist started to burn with a familiar pain.

But when the scope of the room laid itself out to him, the anger turned to dread turned to regret turned to annoyance.

The room was small, a table placed at the center with bookshelves and paperwork piled high, similar to the space Sugawara lived in. There were empty picture frames and empty spaces on walls where something once hung and had since been removed. But the table itself was made up with notebooks and parchment with illegible scribbles on it. Candles littered a dark-stained wooden table, the kind of candles one would find in a horror movie, the kind where the candles were long and the wax was melted and drooping. Kuroo wondered, briefly, what secrets were locked away in this room. The room hidden away from the rest of the house. Where the vampires lurked and expected to be unheard.

But they had been heard.

Kuroo had heard everything.

Around the table the vampires sat, Sugawara at the head. His silver hair shining and soft, his eyes rounded with wicked innocence, but Kuroo knew better. He knew Sugawara held dominating authority and the fact his eyes, soft and a cool brown, still shone with a warmth and kindness unachievable by man further reaffirmed his identity as the leader. He could be stone cold and deeply inviting and he could feel his allure burning at the back of his mind. Whether it was intentional or not, Kuroo did not acknowledge him at all. Daichi was the furthest away from the silver-haired boy, his jaw hardened, and his rich eyes concerned. There was a pain in his eyes, buried deeper, but enough to remind Kuroo of the fight he had overheard. 

Asahi was by Sugawara’s left while Tsukishima was on his right. Asahi held himself, his shoulders unwavering, his expression sad, but there was no hint of regret. He simply looked as if he was sad. Sad for Kuroo. Sad for the whole situation. 

Tsukishima’s eyes were bright, twinkling with laughter despite his line-pressed mouth. He looked the most comfortable, leaning against the table, one hand propping his head up by his chin. His lids fell heavy over his pretty golden eyes, bored, eager for what was to follow.

Tanaka sat beside Nishinoya, who held his position firmly beside his lover. Tanaka’s expression was the plainest, utter surprise and unbelievable shock. He did not look sorry, but he looked ashamed. As if he regretted his words, as if he did not wholeheartedly believe them as he bore down the very subject of them. Nishinoya, however, was angry also. His own hardened eyes were furious, staring down Kuroo as if he, too, was ready to shatter the table in front of him. Ready to fight against his opposers. When Kuroo burst into the room, he rose to his feet, eager to join him, but was stopped by Asahi’s hand on his forearm, holding him back.

But Daishou.

Oh, Daishou.

He was in a half standing, half seated position, his narrowed eyes surprised, with a hint of laughter to them, similar to Tsukishima’s. But his mouth was moving, curled into an amused grin. He was not startled by Kuroo’s presence like some of the others, he was giddy. Bursting with glee. Excited for the interaction. Excited to see Kuroo pissed off.

And he was so pissed off.

Hinata was standing closest to the door, his amber-eyes wide with worry, staring at the dark-haired boy with his mouth opened in surprise, in shock, and his shoulders slumped with silent regret. But Kuroo did not care what Hinata was experiencing as he stared back at him, mouth twisted into a scowl, eyes flashing with fury. The damage had been done. Hinata couldn’t take those words back anymore.

And the emotion wavered.

Suddenly, as the rage transformed within him, shifting from anger, to the involuntary reaction of terror, facing an onslaught of temperamental vampires, to the sudden and abrupt shift into annoyance as his eyes focused on Hinata.

What did Hinata expect him to do? To hold out his hands to him, to let him run into them, to hug him close and tell him that he forgives him and that he’s sorry he almost died? Why would he do that? He saw those eyes. He wasn’t lying. He didn’t try to kill himself. What the fuck did Hinata know? What the fuck did any of them know?

“Kuroo, you don’t understand—” Hinata tried.

“I don’t understand? This is my fucking life, Hinata, I think I understand it perfectly clear. Who the fuck do you think you are?” He whirled on the small vampire, towering over him, his presence building to heights he had not touched in weeks. In days. Too many days. “Did you really think I wanted to die? That I tried to kill myself by throwing myself into the lake?”

Want to know what made it sweeter? Hinata actually cowered beneath him. 

Daishou cackled, earning a jab into the ribs by Nishinoya.

“No, I just— I want to be wrong— I didn’t think that, but from what I could see—”

“Then what did you mean, Hinata? Tell me. Paint me a picture. Make it crystal fucking clear to my weak human mind, my fragile breakable little mind, what you meant?” Kuroo’s words were scathing.

Hinata’s shoulders trembled as he stared up at the human, their differences in height seemingly stretching on farther and farther and soon Hinata was so small. The smallest in the room. Smaller than all the vampires and smaller than Kuroo.

Something wicked flashed across Sugawara’s eyes. Something deeply thoughtful. Something deeply unnerving. Something about the future and how it would eventually all crumble around the human boy who stood, now, the tallest in the room. Not taller than Sugawara, but taller than the others. And that was enough to impress him. To make his lips twitch into a smirk of his own. 

“After you were attacked you laughed less. You saw your friends less. You started to fade away,” Hinata said, his voice tiny in his throat. “You’re barely doing your work on your own, I have to keep up with some of it. You stopped eating the foods you liked. Kuroo, you couldn’t see what I saw. It’s like you were becoming transparent. Like you weren’t existing for yourself anymore.”

Kuroo’s brow twitched, the expression on his face turning into a nasty grin, but there was no humor in. No joy. No amusement.

“Probably because I was reeling from a vampire attack. Probably because you kept me held hostage in this house and my friends started to worry. Probably because I’ve been lying to them about everything I do,  _ every single fucking day _ .” Kuroo snarled at the boy. “But because you couldn’t wave your magical vampire wand and take all that away from me, I must be crazy? Because I didn’t want to do all the things that you expect me to do, I must be suicidal?”

Hinata closed his eyes and frowned, but Kuroo snapped at him.

“No, you have to look at me now!”

His own voice surprised him, loud, demanding, authoritative. Intense. And it stirred something within him, something in his chest, something locked up and faraway, always just out of his reach, but now it filtered to the present. And still, it was unknown to him, but its presence roared within him like an angry beast.

What was this feeling? It was not sadness. It was not anger. It was none of the emotions he felt as a human.

Hinata followed his command, staring up at him with wide eyes, wetness touching the edges of them, both out of shock and shame, his teeth clenched. As if he wanted to look away, but found himself staring up at him anyway. He couldn’t look away.

Sugawara grinned, knowingly.

“I’m not crazy, I’m not suicidal, I’m just trying to figure out where I belong in this godforsaken universe.” Kuroo growled at him, stepping closer so that the orange-haired boy had to strain his neck to look up at him, not daring to avert his eyes. “And you are not my keeper. You don’t have to take care of me. You don’t have to protect me.”

Hinata winced at his words, but Kuroo did not back down. Any residual stinging of his words faded to black and Kuroo glowered, his eyes narrowing, fists trembling at his side. He did not mean to make his words so ruthless, so unabashed, so biting and cold, but how else could he combat the apex predator?

He only had words.

“I don’t know what happened to you, but I know you’re afraid I’m going to fall apart. I’m not like you. I’m  _ not  _ going to break. My humanity is my own—” he started.

“Kuroo—” Hinata tried again, biting his lip when Kuroo continued to speak over him.

“—You don’t get to live through mine.”

Hinata stared at him, stunned. The room was quiet, nobody dared speak out against the human boy. In this moment, his words were final. The table held their breath, each of the vampires reacted in their own way, most with disquieted uncertainty, however some were grinning, smirking, their eyes shining with misplaced glee.

Watching Kuroo bloom from his fragile and broken state to this tall being before them, despite his injuries, despite his trauma, despite his painstaking endurance of day after day, the foundation he had set for himself along the way provided him with just enough to throw that shield of invincibility up and to bear it like a weapon.

It was not only a shield— it was his greatest strength. And it was still splintered. He still needed time. But it was coming back, fueled by white hot anger and the daunting grays of sadness, instead of his desired yellow. He would take that. He would take any of it if it meant to stand again as he did now.

But, it was fleeting. His body was only as strong as a human’s could be. And he stumbled, backwards, his head suddenly spinning, black spots rushing into his field of vision, as his breath caught in his throat. Hinata moved to steady him, but thought against it, and let Kuroo stagger to one of the empty chairs, clinging to it so hard his knuckles turned white. He did not let it stop him.

“I know what I saw in the trees. I saw eyes.” He turned to Asahi, who held his gaze steadily, his face neutral. “I’m not crazy.” He was pleading, he thought. He needed them to believe him.

“There was nothing there, Kuroo,” he replied, calmly, his voice like velvet in his ears. Honesty flashed before his eyes, causing Kuroo’s breath to catch in his throat. “Daishou would have found tracks. A scent. Anything.”

The room had gained a new respect for the human boy, their attention unwavering.

Sugawara’s hands clasped into fists. He was staring at Kuroo, and somewhere beyond him. His smile had waned, his mouth pressed into a hard line. His face appeared weary, as if his thoughts plagued him like an illness.

“I don’t know what you saw, but it was not a person. Nor an animal.” Asahi glanced at Nishinoya who was staring at Kuroo, his brows furrowed and angry, but he could not understand why. “Perhaps you saw a ghost?”

Kuroo grit his teeth, hard.

“Why did you chase it? Why didn’t you wake someone? Or grab a jacket?” Tanaka asked. “That was dangerous and stupid, regardless of what was out there.”

Kuroo winced.

“Not your best moment, I’ll say, Kuroo,” Tsukishima hummed, leaning further back in his chair, bored.

The chair creaked under his faltering grip.

“You’re fucking crazy, dude, but not in the way you’re thinking of,” Nishinoya said, laughter shining in his eyes. “A lake? What’s next? A home invasion?”

“Have you slept, Kuroo?” Daichi asked, seriously. His dark features darkened even more. “Maybe resting will benefit you. What you’re claiming you saw is a very serious matter, phantom eyes or not. Get some rest, we can talk about this more later.”

Daishou only smirked at him.

His head spun again.

“No.”

Daichi stared at him, baffled. “No?”

Kuroo scowled and repeated himself. “No.”

Sugawara laughed, stifling it with his hand over his mouth. When he reopened his eyes, crinkled and cute as he laughed, they were shining, light and joyful, as he watched Kuroo. Daichi’s cheeks flushed red, whether out of frustration or sheer annoyance, Kuroo could not tell, but he did not leave another second to ponder it.

“I’m done talking about this. Who are any of you to tell me what the fuck I saw?” He hissed. “What was the point in keeping me around at all if you’re going to treat me like this? Like my humanity makes me stupid. Like being human makes me worthless. I’m not  _ weak _ just because you expect me to be.”

And he stormed away from the room, leaving Hinata standing behind him, sadly, with his rounded amber-eyes watching him go. His fingers were outstretched, slightly, ready to call after the human, to chase after him, to make sure he made it back to the campus safely, but too shy to try again. Afraid of what Kuroo might say, afraid of what his intentions were, afraid of facing head on a history he tried so hard to bury. An arm wrapped solidly around his shoulder, Nishinoya hugging him.

Daichi touched Sugawara’s arm and he did not withdraw. Instead, he broke his stare from the boy who left and found Daichi’s dark brown eyes. Sugawara looked sad and Daichi did not know why. He pressed his fingertips into his skin, softly, tenderly, and hoped to take some of the pain away. There was not much else he could do.

***

In his mind, he was powerful. In his mind, he had stomped away, his shoulders set and strong. The strength he held within his body brimming to the end of his fingers; he was forceful and he was intentional. Each movement was made of purpose, of poise, of overwhelming certainty. And he had been strong again. He had been invincible. Unachievable. Unbreakable.

But then his body caught up to his spirit and he staggered down the hall, leaning heavily onto one side of the wall as his lungs caught up to his breath. He wheezed, the burn in his throat bursting with hungry flames as tears touched his eyes. His fist struck the wall, his anger still present in his body, fighting against his throat and his aching lungs as another bout of coughing wracked his shoulders. He slumped against the wall, vision blurry as the coughing continued.

A hand curled around his waist in an attempt to hold him up.

He immediately reacted, shoving the person away from him, and throwing them a nasty scowl.

“I can walk by myself,” he hissed, under his breath, between coughs as he urgently tried to wipe at his eyes to hide the wetness as it slipped onto his cheek. “Leave me alo—”

But his breath was caught in his throat, catching the yellow eyes of the green-haired vampire as he grinned in response. Daishou, respectfully, withdrew his hand, and Kuroo almost wished he hadn’t, but the thought was extinguished, much like the anger he held in his chest from before. Instead, Daishou moved to stand in front of him, leaning against the wall, imitating Kuroo’s slouched and unsteady posture. His shining yellow eyes were twinkling with glee.

Kuroo glared. “Why do you look so smug?”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Kuroo scoffed, pushing himself off the wall, wobbling slightly. “I’m going home.”

Daishou chuckled, tailing the boy as he continued through the house, back into the guest room which inevitably turned into Kuroo’s room, and started to search for his shoes and winter coat. He tried to think back to the night before but he could not remember where he had placed them in the house. Had he left them in the living room? In Hinata’s room? After that conversation, there was no way Kuroo wanted to go back up towards the orange-haired boy’s room.

During his searching, his head began to pound, with every heartbeat and intake of breath his brain felt like it would burst from the pressure, and once he leaned down to check at the foot of a bed for his shoes, his head began to swim and his vision went spotty. He released a small groan as he sagged himself against the side of the bed. This time, Daishou took his arm and placed it over his shoulder so that Kuroo had something to hold onto, struggling to rise to two feet again.

“Are you sure you should leave?” Daishou hummed to him, breath hot on Kuroo’s cheek as the human pressed his weight into his side, using him as leverage. “You have a cold.”

“I doubt the rest of your family wants me here tonight,” Kuroo scowled, using his free hand to rub his eyes, willing the aching in his body to go away. “Not after what I said to them. Besides, they all think I’m an insane lying human shithead.”

Daishou curled his arm snugly around his waist, holding him tightly, firmly, and Kuroo did not shove him away again. “It seems you don’t know us well enough at all. I’m surprised no one is out here to strap you to your bed until you’re healthy again.”

“Then what are your intentions here? Going to strap me to the bed?” Kuroo couldn’t help the mild amusement as it pulled itself out of him, his lips turning up in a half smirk.

“Only if you really wanted me to,” Daishou hummed, unable to mask the smirk as it twitched onto his lips.

Kuroo snorted, ignoring the wave of nausea as it made his stomach churn uncomfortably. His grip on Daishou faltered, but the vampire’s hold did not ease, ensuring he would remain upright and stable in his arms. He leaned into the touch even more, offering the vampire much more of his weight than before and still he did not struggle. His body was too greedy for stability for him to worry about anything else, including the dark and uncertain thoughts about his closeness to the vampire. A closeness they only shared once previously and it resulted in his arm being broken and terror coursing through his veins as sharp as ice. If he tensed at all, it was only slightly. 

“I was actually wondering how you were planning on getting home,” Daishou said, quietly. “It’s snowing outside and none of these cars are yours, after all. Were you planning on stealing one of our cars in addition to telling us off?”

Kuroo winced. Fuck, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. His urgency to leave the house prevented him from thinking about his actual means of escape. He could walk, but it was the dead of winter, and he figured the vampires would actually kill him if he tried that again. And, he didn’t think his body could tolerate another round of himself versus the weather. Besides, campus was too far to travel on foot and his dramatic exit may have been in vain— how was it the vampires always got what they wanted in the end?

“How the fuck did I end up trapped here again?” He grumbled.

“You gave up your rights to reasonable decision-making authority when you threw yourself into a lake in the dead of winter,” Daishou replied, grinning. “Don’t worry, I can take you home, if you want.”

Kuroo looked at him, searching his expression for malicious intent. They were so close, Daishou’s face tilted up to look at him, eyes shining with lingering mischief. But he did not feel uncomfortable. He did not feel much of anything. And that was a good thing, he thought. Feeling nothing at all seemed better than drowning in blackened sadness or choking on icy hot fear as it constricted his throat. He smiled at the shorter boy, the faintest tug of his lips, barely enough to be significant, but it made a light flicker across the vampire’s eyes. Kuroo wondered what it meant.

“Okay,” Kuroo agreed.

Daishou grinned even wider.

Daishou helped Kuroo find his jacket and his shoes, holding onto him when he had to take a second to cough or to lean against a wall. The longer they moved around the house, the paler Kuroo got. As the strength of his body diminished rapidly, the tall dark-haired boy found himself sitting in the day room, panting, slouched over on the couch as he waited for Daishou to return with a juice box from their refrigerator.

It didn’t take long for Daishou to notice him trembling, curled around himself, shivering despite his thick red coat wrapped warmly around him. Daishou cleared his throat, earning Kuroo’s attention, passing him the boxed apple juice, but Kuroo did not look up. He coughed, loudly, and his entire body shook as he did.

“Come on, kid, let’s get you home,” Daishou said. “You look terrible.”

“He’s staying, Daishou.” Kuroo’s head shot up, his honey-brown eyes narrowed and lethal as he found the owner of the voice. Daichi stood at the entrance of the day room, arms crossed over his chest, his expression intense and serious. He was not even looking at Kuroo. Why wasn’t he looking at him? How was he not worth even a glance? How could he talk about him as if he was not sitting in the room at all? “Asahi wants to monitor his symptoms.”

Daishou’s voice cut through the air like a razor blade. “He can see a doctor. If he wants to go home, let him go home. Didn’t Sugawara say specifically not to force him into anything?” 

Kuroo tried to stand, but barely managed to grab onto the edge of the couch before his world went fuzzy and black again. Daishou caught his arm, but Kuroo angrily withdrew it, focusing his blurred attention onto the dark-haired vampire with his dark brown eyes. Kuroo was not particularly violent, but for some reason he wanted to punch Daichi right in the face, right where his cut jawline was. Just to wipe that serious, stern look off of his face.

“I want to leave.” He tried to say the words with as much sharpness as Daishou had, but his words were caught in his aching throat, so the noise sounded more like a sad croak. It made his skin flush, redness overwhelming the tops of his cheeks, and he only grew angrier at the fact his body failed to match him. Why did it always disappoint him in this way?

He could not reach the stars, and so they fled from him. He could not reach those eyes in the trees, and so he drowned. He could not escape this vampire house, and so he wondered what would happen next.

“No.” Daichi said, plainly. “I’m afraid we can’t let you do that right now.”

Daishou glowered at the other boy. “What are you hiding, Daichi?”

Daichi’s hardened expression faltered, barely noticeable by Kuroo’s human eyes, but the other vampires were too wary and practiced with the fine movements of Daichi’s face. A message passed from one boy to another, enough to cause Daishou to grit his teeth in annoyance and step away from the human who wobbled unsteadily without his assistance. Daishou forced himself into Daichi’s space, snarling at him, flashing his violent teeth in his face.

“If Sugawara has something to say, he can say it to Kuroo,” he hissed, voice low in his throat. Something within Daishou shifted and it made Kuroo’s heart skip a beat. Not in the lovely way he wished it would, in the way he remembered when he was lying on the concrete covered in his own blood. The way the tendrils of pain snaked around his body and held him in a vice grip as he stared down a monster with black eyes. “I’m not afraid of him the same way you are, lover boy.”

Black eyes, piercing red, glowing hungrily as they stared back.

Kuroo suddenly found it much harder to breathe.

“Control yourself,” Daichi retorted, serious eyes widening. “You worked too hard to risk losing yourself again over the same human boy.”

Daishou’s jaw clenched, his muscles tense as a slow and steady growl rumbled from his chest. It was sinister, it was inherently cruel, and it was meant to threaten Daichi. Daichi did not flinch, he did not move away, he held steady under the other vampire’s growls, his intense glares. Kuroo did not have to see his eyes to know that blackness had begun to seep into the edges, coloring them a combination of stark black and shimmers of yellow life. Kuroo did not have to see his eyes to know that the monster he held within him was slowly beginning to unravel. He could feel it in his core, at the very base of his bones, the arrival of the instinctive fear. It was cold and he was already freezing.

“Fuck this shit,” Kuroo grumbled, tightening his coat around him like a protective layer. “Let him take me home.”

Someone else chuckled behind Daichi. Then he whistled, sharp and short, enough to get Kuroo’s attention. Tsukishima leered at him from under his glasses, the corner of his mouth twitched down in a lazy scowl, unintentional, yet familiar on his lips. He jerked his head, gesturing for Kuroo to follow him, but Kuroo returned the scowl. Daishou ignored the arrival of the blond boy, his gaze fixed on Daichi.

“Suga wants to see you, Daishou,” Tsukishima mumbled, stepping past him. “And do you really think I would let you in a car, alone, with Kuroo?  _ You _ must be mad.”

Kuroo glared at him as he approached, trying to yank his arm away when the blond boy grabbed onto it, but not being strong enough to pull away. Tsukishima hissed something inaudible to him through gritted teeth, tightening his grip around his arm, forcing Kuroo to rise to his feet. Kuroo went to protest but ended up coughing and wheezing again, leaning into Tsukishima. The blond boy started to pull him away, away from Daichi, away from Daishou, his legs struggling to keep up with the pace of Tsukishima. His long legs strode through the house and into a side room.

Daishou did not look back once as Kuroo was led away.

“You’ve truly made a mess of things here, haven’t you?” Tsukishima grumbled, softly, his tone not particularly annoyed nor bored. Very impassive. With the door shut, he cooly leaned against it, ensuring nobody would enter abruptly. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched Kuroo whimper and wheeze as he collapsed into one of the sitting chairs in the room.

“I didn’t do anything,” Kuroo huffed, his cheeks flushing with annoyance. “Can I go home, please? I don’t care if Daishou can’t take me, I just need to get out of this place. I need space.”

“Do what you want. I don’t care. You didn’t need to be in that room with Daichi and Daishou. The shit you stirred with the eyes thing is going to cause a lot of problems, you know.” Tsukishima shrugged, tossing him his cell phone. “You left this in your room.”

Kuroo’s fingers wrapped around the phone, eyes widening with surprise. How could he have forgotten this? Has he become so unattached to the rest of the world nothing beyond the walls of this house mattered to him anymore? No, that certainly wasn’t true. He cared about his friends, he cared about them deeply. So why was he so forgetful? So lost in this vampire universe? He tapped the screen awake, revealing messages from Akaashi. From Kenma.

In one swift movement, he sent a message. Before his mind could tell him not to. Before the gravity of the situation could strike him.

A simple one.

An address accompanied by an SOS.

If the vampires would not take him home, he would bring home to the vampires.

***

Kuroo dozed in the side room, his coat removed and utilized as a blanket, laying over his chest and arms as he reclined in the chair. It wasn’t comfortable, but he was so exhausted he did not care how his neck was bent in a weird way and that the position made his breath come out in quiet little snores. He did not care that Tsukishima had offered to help him to his bedroom or that they could relocate to a different room which had a couch. He did not care that there was a soft knock on the door and the soft voice of Asahi wishing to come in and check on him. He did not care that Tsukishima had slipped out of the room and shared words with the long-haired boy in hushed tones. He did not care that Tsukishima did not come back.

He was much too tired to allow himself the mild discomfort of distress as uncertainty laid itself out before him like a blackhole edging closer and closer to him as he peered in. He did not let himself wonder too long what was at the bottom. He only nestled his coat closer around him, made a soft sleep noise, and ignored the aching feeling in his limbs.

Sleep took him again.

***

“Hey, sweet boy,” a voice hummed to him, warm in tone. Gentle fingers stroked the ends of his hair out of his face. “It’s time to go now, sugarbear.”

Kuroo leaned into the touch, lost in his dreamland. His favorite kind of dreamland. The kind of lands where the dreams were black and soundless, so the sleep was heavy and healing. All he wanted was to heal. He was so tired. So tired of fighting the world, fighting the vampires, fighting himself. He was beginning to lose sight of what everything truly meant to him.

He wanted to go home.

He missed the stars.

But sleep was enough for now.

“Wake up, sweet boy, before Akaashi gets mad at me and pulls my hair again,” the voice said. “He was already pissed enough when I climbed into Bokuto’s car. I think Kenma wants to murder me.”

Kuroo grumbled again, wiggling in the seat, finally comfortable.

“I’m pretty sure I met your boyfriend, too,” the voice whispered. “He is a dick. I like him.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Kuroo mumbled, eyes still shut and teetering on the edge of wakefulness and sleep.

“Dude, why didn’t you tell me all your Jan friends were so hot?” the voice said. “And that Suga’s grandpa owns a huge house this close to campus? I definitely would’ve come over more.”

Realization struck him.

His eyes flew open.

Terushima was kneeling on the floor, staring at Kuroo’s sleeping position, grinning.

“You’re up!”

Confusion hit him first. He was still in the side room Tsukishima had pulled him into. Still in his clothes he had intended to flee the home in. Still ragged and sore, his lungs aching, his body stiff and tired. The pounding in his head was muted, but likely due to the surprise and shock as he stared at the blond boy before him. All the events from the evening before, from the hot chocolate with Hinata, to his frantic sprinting through the snow, to his desperate flailing in the black waters of a lake, to his crying in Hinata’s arms, to his rise in power, to his decline in power— none of them felt as if they had ever occurred at all. Staring at the blond boy, with his hair combed back and sticking up at the ends, and his piercings lining his ears, with that wicked joy glinting in his eyes, Kuroo truly felt disconnected from reality.

Because there was no way this colliding of worlds could happen. The vampires were sectioned off carefully in his thoughts as were his everyday experiences with the mortal world. The world of humans. Of beating hearts and never-ending warmth. They were separate, never meant to mix together. Surely, on campus, it occurred infrequently. Occasionally Bokuto chatted with Hinata and Asahi. Occasionally Akaashi chatted with Sugawara in the library. Kemna showed Hinata his favorite games. Tsukishima helped Kenma with his homework.

But never this. Never have they been so close together. Humanity versus the never-ending twilight.

Terushima was in the vampire house.

Oh, fuck.

What did he do?

Oh,  _ fuck _ .

“Huh? What? What are you doing here?” Kuroo said, between yawns, sitting up in the chair and stretching his sore limbs, wincing when one of his muscles in his back twinged with pain. He grimaced and rubbed at his eyes. “How did you get into Bokuto’s car?”

He paused.

“Wait, who else is here?”

Terushima laughed and patted his head. “You sent an urgent sounding text message to all of us like an hour ago. I tried to find them because I was worried because you stopped answering your text and found them shoveling Bo’s car out of the parking lot behind his dorm. I helped and they didn’t protest too hard when I eventually got in the car with them.”

Kuroo blinked.

“What?”

“I don’t know why they invited Kenma here, he just stood in the snow with an expression that could kill.” Terushima hummed, then rose to his feet, surveying the room. The room was a small one, perhaps once an old study the others had transitioned into a simple sitting room with an untouched chess table in one corner and an old painting easel in the other with a few bookshelves half-filled and barren. The chairs were the nicest parts, despite being too small to house Kuroo’s long and lanky form. They were soft, lined with smooth fabrics. It was an odd place for him to end up, that’s for certain. “They told me you were sick, not sleepwalking. How the fuck did you end up in a coat and in a chair way too small for you?”

Oh, fuck,  _ again _ .

He tried to stand up, swaying at the head rush he earned himself by moving too quickly, and groaned in response. Terushima laughed at him, the noise was striking and sweet to hear. It almost made breathing in those shallow and painful breaths worth it. For a moment, Kuroo’s lips twitched into a smile, before fading away as his mind started to race with a thousand thoughts, all of which circulating around the sudden overwhelming fear of potentially exposing his vampire friends. He may have been angry at them, furious even, hurt by their accusations— but this?

What did he do?

“Woah, you do look sick. What happened?” Terushima asked, winding his arm around Kuroo, letting him slip his arm over his shoulders.

“I got caught in the snow,” he said, sighing, as they started to make their way out of the room.

“Brutal, dude,” Terushima said. “Is that your not so subtle way of telling me you were actually hooking up with your boyfriend in a snowstorm and got a little wild?” He was waggling his eyebrows, expectantly. 

Kuroo startled, staring at him with wide eyes. “Dude, shut the fuck up before I vomit on you.”

Terushima tossed his head back and laughed heartily, squeezing Kuroo’s side playfully. Kuroo squeaked and stumbled as they walked, causing Terushima to stagger with him down the hallway. Unlike the vampires, Terushima’s grip on him did not feel the safest. If he wobbled, Terushima wobbled also. It was incredibly human of them to struggle with the greatest feat of all— gravity.

What Kuroo was not expecting, however, was the scene in the living room as the pair made their way towards the exit of the house.

The living room, the same living room with the large bean bag, and the soft plush blankets. The same living room he spent multiple nights in, sipping apple juice. Being consoled by his friends. Discovering the truth about them. About vampires. About this great, gigantic world that existed around him in silence, concealed by shadows, monsters mingling with men. The living room where his life changed forever, where secrets were uncovered, where stories of a life beyond this simple one began to unfold.

It was surreal, he thought, combining all the parts of his life together like this. It did not feel wrong, but it did not feel right. And somehow, his mind took him back to that dream from long ago, the dream where he floated on black waters, where stars shimmered above him so high in the sky and reflected back in the ocean, that seemed to carry him through an endless galaxy of twinkling lights. And he remembered when he broke the ocean’s heart by greedily reaching for the stars, and how the stars had scorned him, and painted his body grey with misery, and left his nighttime skies blank.

The existence of the in-between.

He was there again.

Akaashi stood in the living room, the same living room, with his arms crossed over his chest. His mouth was pinched and his eyes were calculating, as if he was trying to solve a puzzle of some kind. Sugawara sat on the couch, his legs crossed, and his familiar grin on his face. He was holding a teacup, the steam hot, its aroma sweet. His eyes were sparkling, gazing up at Akaashi, his face was soft, warm, inviting. His features were delicate and gentle, the kind of softness where anyone would grow weak in the knees, and for a beat, Kuroo wondered if this was allure. He knew there was a piece of that at play, but another part of him reminded himself that Sugawara was this creature of kindness. Of warmth. He looked— beautiful.

His cool brown eyes slid over to him, his mouth curled into a lovely grin.

“There he is,” he said, his voice curled around him like smoke, tickling his skin. Like a whisper, but it wasn’t. “Would you like some tea before you go, Kuroo? You can steal a mug, if you want. I feel horrible you got sick here.”

Kuroo flinched, but he wasn’t sure why.

Akaashi’s trance had broken and he hurried to where Kuroo stood, ignoring Terushima’s happy grin completely and placing the back of his hand upon Kuroo’s forehead. Although his expression did not falter, Kuroo could tell in Akaashi’s eyes his forehead was warmer than anticipated. His dark eyebrows furrowed as he searched Kuroo’s face, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“It’s a wonderful thing you have such good friends to come pick you up,” Sugawara said, voice smooth as silk, as he lifted himself from the couch. He danced over to the others, touching Akaashi’s shoulder lightly as he approached. Akaashi subconsciously stepped out of the way so Sugawara could look at Kuroo, seriously. “I’m sorry we couldn’t call them for you.”

The words pierced Kuroo’s chest like a cold dagger, but neither Terushima nor Akaashi picked up on the bitterness of his tone. They did not know Sugawara as Kuroo did, they did not know his allure and how it radiated from him like a sickly sweet poison. Kuroo knew, however, and he kept his chin raised. What was Sugawara thinking? What was he trying to accomplish?

“I can take the tea for him,” Terushima offered, his lids heavy over his eyes as he admired Sugawara— probably too closely for Daichi’s sake. “And I can bring the mug back, if you want? Y’know. Later.”

Sugawara laughed and it was bright. Akaashi’s eyes narrowed.

“Terushima, shut the fuck up,” he grumbled. “You’re being embarrassing and I already don’t like you.”

“You’re welcome to bring the mug back whenever you want, but keep in mind we don’t visit my grandpa’s house too often. Your best bet is to catch me while I’m at school,” Sugawara chuckled— no, he  _ giggled _ , masking his mouth behind his pale and slim fingers as he met Terushima’s eyes.

Kuroo could feel Terushima’s heart beginning to race in his chest as his grip on his side started to tighten uncomfortably. Kuroo wanted to roll his eyes. Sugawara met his eyes and smiled at him. His smile was thin and for a second, his brown eyes flashed with anger— no, it was not anger, it was something like anger. Was it fear? A glimpse of a wasteland where nothing lived. No life. No love. No warmth. But he did not think it was meant for him. Whatever emotion behind his false charms, behind his hypnotizing allure, did not seem targeted at the human boy. He just so happened to be within its path.

“I’ll pour you some tea,” he murmured to him, slipping past him like a beautiful phantom of his nightmares.

As he left the room to slip by to enter the attached kitchen, Terushima released the breath he was holding.

“God, Kuroo, I could kill you for keeping them to yourself,” he whispered to him. Kuroo chuckled.

“I just want to go home,” he said, sadder than he meant to. 

“Well, we’re here to take you back,” Akaashi said, watching Sugawara carefully as he busied himself in the kitchen, prepping tea. “Your text scared me, I thought you were in serious trouble. You should have said you just needed a ride.”

Kuroo grimaced. “Sorry. It was urgent. I think I was in some kind of daze when I sent the message. I’ve been pretty out of it since I got this cold, my head is super fuzzy and my limbs sort of feel like jello.” He snickered a little, softly. Innocently. “Besides, if I hadn’t made it seem serious I wouldn’t have gotten you and Terushima in the same car.”

Akaashi shot him a glare. “It was more than me. Bokuto and Kenma are in the car. We thought it would end up being an expedition. You’re going to have to make it up to Kenma, at least. I thought he was going to kill Bo the entire car ride.”

“Did you leave him in the back seat with him?” Kuroo asked, eyes wide.

Akaashi nodded, solemnly. “So I had to sit next to this moron while I drove.”

Terushima snorted. “It wouldn’t have been so bad if Bo hadn’t been on aux the whole time. I think my ears started to bleed halfway through.” Terushima grinned, sticking his face up close to Akaashi’s, causing the dark haired boy to yank his face away, glaring. “I can hold your hand on the way back if you want.”

Akaashi stared at Kuroo, his mouth in a hard line. “I truly do not understand what you saw in him. Disgusting.”

Terushima’s face twisted into exaggerated shock. “He saw my charming personality and dashing good looks, you fuck.” In one swift movement, Terushima grabbed Kuroo’s face and licked his cheek, devilish glint in his eyes. “Delicious.”

The action did what it was supposed to, sending Akaashi into a fit of coughing, gagging over how overwhelmed with disgust he was while Terushima smirked triumphantly. Kuroo groaned and wiped at his face, not surprised by the lick— honestly, he was grateful it was just his cheek— and frowned as the pair started an argument about the values of germ theory and whether or not Terushima had just caught Kuroo’s illness. Akaashi and Terushima’s bickering did not end when there was a quiet knock on the door, Daishou stepping into sight. According to the expression of confusion and subdued annoyance, he saw what had just happened. 

His yellow eyes sparkled. His presence was intoxicating, clearly engaging in the same kind of allure Sugawara was tapping into, his small build seemed elegant and graceful as he casually leaned against the wall, and the curve of his mouth had Kuroo wishing he could shove both Akaashi and Terushima away from him. But he knew better. He knew this was part of the vampire’s ploy to keep his human friends from suspecting anything out of the ordinary. What a shame the vampire’s allure was so ineffective against him. He would have liked to marvel at Daishou a little bit longer— still, his cheeks were beginning to warm up at the thought of Daishou catching Terushima’s tongue on his face.

“Heading out so soon?” Daishou cooed. “But you only just got here.”

“Kuroo needs to rest,” Sugawara hummed, his voice like music, as he slipped an arm around Daishou’s waist and gave him a soft squeeze before floating back towards Kuroo. He gave Akaashi Kuroo’s tea with a smile and nod. “His friends will take care of him.”

Akaashi eyed Sugawara, cautiously, then flicked his sight onto Daishou, sizing him up. Kuroo wanted to laugh. Of course Akaashi was not swayed by the mystical powers of whatever the fuck the vampires were doing. Sugawara seemed to realize this too and shifted his pull onto Terushima instead.

“You seem like someone who knows how to take care of a person,” he said, delicately. “Terushima, right?”

Terushima’s eyes nearly burst from his head. “Oh yeah, definitely, I can do that, for sure. Most definitely. Uh huh. Yeah,” he sputtered. Sugawara laughed. “Kuroo, you’re all good, right? I did good with you, right?”

“He has a boyfriend, you idiot,” Akaashi growled. “We’ll be leaving shortly. Thank you for the tea. And thank you for taking care of Kuroo until we got here.”

Daishou’s eyebrow flicked up. “I’ll see you in class once you’re feeling better.”

“You’re coming back?” Kuroo asked, bewildered, so stunned he had forgotten his audience.

Daishou smirked and approached him, moving slowly, closing the distance between them as if they were the only two in the room. The movement was familiar and he was transported to a time once before when they were cloaked in shadows, standing in a chilly alleyway, their breath panting out before them, puffing up like swirls of smoke and floating away. And instead of fear, Kuroo stared at him with wonder, with curiosity, and willed him to stand even closer. Daishou looked a certain way, like he was also curious. Like he also stared at him with wonder. Kuroo was not afraid when he stood close to him again. He wondered if Daishou felt the same way. 

The green-haired boy reached up and touched Kuroo’s cheek, gingerly, the ends of his fingertips as if pressing too hard would bruise the boy again. It was so light it tickled. Kuroo pressed his face into his palm, the sensation was warm and made his chest tighten with worry. He had been here before.

Kuroo’s breath nearly caught in his throat at the unexpected movement, but what really had his mind reeling was the instinctive clutching at the smaller boy’s sides, pulling away from Terushima to hold him. His heart thrummed in his chest and he could feel Daishou stiffen at the closeness of their proximity to one another, as if he did not consider Kuroo reacting to the touch in such a way. Kuroo did not expect it of himself either, but found he wanted to hold him tighter. He stared into those yellow eyes, the same ones he’s hunted for so many days. The same ones he dreamt about for so many days. For too many days. Why was it that this was somehow not enough?

And the feeling which came next was anguish.

Why was it not enough?

He dipped his head low, earning a startled gasp from the vampire, and pressed his lips to his temple.

Perhaps it was a kiss. Perhaps it was reassurance. Perhaps it was the demanding greed of making himself feel yellow again.

Whatever it was, it was not enough.

“Thank you for believing me,” he hummed, so quietly. “Until next time.”

“Don’t fucking die on me until then,” Daishou whispered back, voice caught in his throat, breathless. His eyes took a second to flutter to alertness again.

The green-haired boy shoved him back, smirking. Kuroo pretended not to notice the redness forming at the tops of Daishou’s cheeks and the ends of his ears and how his breathing seemed a little unsteady and uneven. He stepped away, quickly, fingers fidgeting at his sides, creating much needed space between the two. Whatever allure he had generated melted away and Kuroo saw the boy as he was. A little bit startled and a little bit warm. Perhaps he was a little bit torn at the small frown which pulled at Kuroo’s lips. Without him to hold onto, his fingers suddenly did not know where to lay. Sugawara stared at them, his expression unreadable, and he only offered a thin smile as his goodbye as he watched Akaashi and Terushima lead Kuroo out of the door and into the snowy night.

***

“Not your boyfriend, my ass,” Terushima muttered to Kuroo, helping him into the front seat of the car, ignoring Bokuto’s shouts of glee at Kuroo’s arrival. “You dirty liar.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Kuroo repeated, but instead of offering a cheeky smirk, he turned to stare out of the window, turning away from Akaashi’s speculative stare, away from Kenma’s judging expression, away from Bokuto’s overeager poking and prodding.

Tetsurou Kuroo had become a man of many habits. There was something methodical about doing the same thing every day, purposefully finding the normalcy in how he brushed his teeth in the mornings and when he ate breakfast. It made him feel very in control of himself, of his thoughts, when his expectations were certain and his mind was aligned with the task at hand. Going to class, eating dinner, working on homework at the library. Seeing his friends, talking to them about their shared class, gossiping about someone else. When the world made sense around him, that was when he was at peace, he thought. When certainty was certain and uncertainty was certainly away, Kuroo bloomed from the inside out. 

The dark spaces of his soul filled with warmth, burning away the remaining cobwebs and painting his insides a shade of yellow.

Yellow had been gone from him for a long time now and he was not certain when it would return to him. He searched in all of the places he knew how to search, the deepest parts of himself, searching in the deepest parts of his friends, searching for it in the eyes of a villain who longed to tear his throat out given the chance. But he never found it in all of those predictable places. Not in the woods, not at the bottom of a lake, not on the temple of a boy.

But as he drove along the back roads of a rural town, black sky blanketing the world around him, thick flakes of snow piling up on the already coated earth, he stared up at the sky and waited for the clouds to part. He waited for a revelation to come to him, for a reason to keep searching for his yellow, to replenish the empty ache in chest to erase all of the grey which had stained his soul. And for the first time, he thought to himself, what if the yellow was gone for good? What if all of his searching and all of his hunting resulted in nothing at all? Because there was no yellow left inside of him.

In the car, Terushima and Bokuto shouted lyrics to a song Kuroo could not understand. Akaashi’s knuckles were tight on the steering wheel, either from sheer annoyance at the companions he had chosen for the car ride or out of anxiety from driving in the snow. Kenma sat behind Kuroo’s seat, curled up, glaring out the window with Kuroo. Soon, the small blond boy reached out and touched his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Kenma asked, his voice soft, barely audible over the shouting of the car. Thankfully, he was close enough to his ear that Kuroo could hear him. “You seem out of it.”

Kuroo shrugged, absently, not turning to look at his friend, not willing to break his gaze from the cloudy sky. 

“I don’t think I’m okay,” he admitted. “I don’t really know what I’m doing at all.”

“Did something happen at the house?” Kenma asked.

Kuroo shrugged again, reflecting back on that feeling of anger he had when he stared down Hinata. Reflecting back on the way his chest had bloomed with purpose, with intent, and how everyone in the room offered up their attention as if it was the only thing they had left. He remembered the stirring of that unfamiliar beast in his chest and a small voice, lurking in the depths of his mind, reached out to him and whispered earnestly to him:

_ You can be rebuilt. _

As if the universe heard him, a sliver of grey cloud split open, and through the fogginess of the air, through the filtered snowflakes, the night sky was revealed to him. And in it, a single shimmering star burned brightly, casting its light down to him and letting it coat his insides with its fire. He wished to hold onto the burning forever.

_ You are not weak. _

He pressed his hand to the glass, trying to submerge himself in its golden light. Trying to memorize the way that it twinkled. He could almost hear it laughing at him.

He was not weak.


	17. unraveling vampires

His cold got worse before it got better.

He spent four days cooped up in his room, his body coated in a slick layer of sweat, constantly shivering from cold chills. He was in and out of sleep, only really aware of the time when his friends would stop by with a meal from the dining hall, packed up in ugly styrofoam, smelling strangely of old shoes. He was only awake long enough to have his temperature taken, sitting up, blinking back the discomfort as he struggled to spoon himself mouthful after mouthful of soup and sip on a sports drink.

The second day was the worst day.

He was hunched over a trash can, emptying the contents of his stomach into it, tears forming in the corners of his eyes and falling freely. He could not find any relief from the churning of his stomach and the pounding in his head. He wished for it to simply explode so that he would not have to endure another moment of his body rejecting itself, another moment of that sick sensation of his stomach lurching, his fingers clenching around the edge of the trashcan, and weeping silently until it ended.

That day, his friends came to him in shifts. In the early hours, it was Akaashi. He placed a dampened towel on his forehead, finding a rubber band to tie back his longer pieces of hair as it clung uncomfortably to his forehead, wet with sweat. He sat with Kuroo, silently, waiting for the nausea to pass, rubbing slow circles in his back. Bokuto came next, overlapping with Akaashi, helping Kuroo back into his bed, letting him press all of his heavy weight into him. His strong shoulders easily swept Kuroo into the bed, and his friend stayed while he slept.

Kenma came next, laying nearby, swift to move the trash can into place lest the dark-haired boy require it urgently. But most importantly, he was the background noise he needed to distract himself enough from the aches and pains buried in the depths of his limbs. Kenma was not much for playing doctor, he wasn’t going to hold Kuroo’s hair back while he vomited, he wasn’t going to feed him soup, or pat his forehead dry. He would, however, risk catching the cold by nestling close to his best friend despite his grunts of protest and shared his pillows with him. He would, however, keep his handheld video game close to him, quietly muttering his thoughts as he played, revealing the story of the game and its strategies, providing Kuroo with enough content for the storyline to trickle into his dreams.

Terushima came, too, and he retched alongside Kuroo, disgusted by the mere idea of vomit. His presence was enough to get Kuroo through the thick of it.

They all came together and soon, on the fifth day, the cold had been beaten, his fever broke, and Kuroo finally emerged from his bedroom a new person. His muscles did not ache, his throat did not sting, his lungs did not scream. He stood taller. His vision was cleared. However, the dark-haired boy, still bore his trauma like scars along his body. He had lost weight since the beginning of the semester, his once lean muscles had weakened and left his long arms thinner, emphasizing the lankiness of his build. His shoulders were not as broad. His thin face seemed to have deep hollowed out cheekbones etched into it, his jawline hard and sharp, and despite the sleep he had finally received, it was not enough to permanently burn away the blues and grays sunken around his eyes. He moved like a ghoul, a phantom, a creature of darkness when he finally made his debut back into reality.

And reality welcomed him with open arms.

Classes were monotonous. Forks University was in full swing. Midterms were upon the students and Kuroo was not ready for them. His mind had been in so many other places recently, he could barely remember what material he was supposed to focus on. He could barely remember what he was supposed to work on. And what made the situation even worse was the day he entered the biology classroom.

Around the table was Sugawara, Hinata, and Daishou, sitting patiently, expectantly, watching the entrance for when the tall dark-haired boy entered the room. Hinata did not make eye contact with him once, while Daishou sat closer to him than ever before. Sugawara just watched them interact, quietly, musing in silence. While his eyes were focused, it was clear his mind was elsewhere, pondering a distant thought. The lecture was boring, the lab assignment dull, and they completed first in the class. No one really let Kuroo touch much of the work, the parts of it he did start he found himself anxiously trying to match their pace. What was he supposed to do when everyone around him knew all the answers without even having to read the questions?

Hinata stared out the window once he was finished. Sugawara nibbled on the end of his pen, hand squishing his cheek as he rested his head upon his hand on the lab bench. And Daishou just watched Kuroo work, his mouth turned up into a smirk, and his eyes never left the human boy, he studied him curiously.

Kuroo swallowed nervously and glanced at him.

“Can you help?” he asked, quietly.

Hinata’s eyes flickered over to him and flickered back to the window. Kuroo felt his gaze on him, even if it lasted for a blink, and it made his cheeks warm up. It wasn’t with shame. He did not regret what he had said to Hinata. He only wished Hinata did not have to suffer in order to give Kuroo agency over his life. Kuroo was not cruel, he simply wanted to navigate his experience on his own terms. If he needed help, he would ask. So he did.

Sugawara offered him a smile. “You can copy off of mine, if you’d like.”

“No, no, can you help explain this concept to me?” Kuroo tried again.

Sugawara seemed confused for a moment, as if the question was not as clear as it meant to be, but he soon found him and he smiled. The smile was genuine and kind, not a hint of allure wrapping itself around Kuroo. Whatever draw Sugawara had, it was from him alone.

“Certainly, Kuroo,” the silver-haired boy answered. 

Sugawara and Daishou helped Kuroo, explaining the lecture from class to him and demonstrating how to apply the theories. Kuroo was grateful and somewhere along the way, he found that the moment was warm.

Hinata kept to himself. He did not help. And when the lab had been dismissed and everyone gathered their things to go, Hinata was the first one gone and out the door. Kuroo watched him go and could not help the pang of sadness as his chest tightened. He wondered what pain the boy was in and what he needed to do to help him. Hinata was not himself when his amber eyes were not rounded and sparkling, when his laughter was not ringing, when he was not smiling. 

He was pulled from his thoughts by Daishou’s hand on his lower back and his taunting voice snaking up to his ear from behind.

“Get lunch with me,” he hummed, pressing his chin against Kuroo’s shoulder before slipping to stand next to him, his narrowed yellow eyes were shining as he fell into step with the taller boy, walking out of the lab and into the hallway. The vampire moved effortlessly, floating across the ground, keeping time with Kuroo’s long strides as if it were not a challenge at all. It made Kuroo smirk.

“You don’t eat food,” Kuroo replied, glancing sideways at the boy, watching as his lips twitched into another wicked grin. The yellow eyes slid over and found Kuroo watching and Kuroo wanted to pull his gaze away, but found power in holding his stare instead. It made the shorter boy laugh.

“So what?” He snickered. “I can watch you eat yours.”

Kuroo wrinkled his nose. “No.”

“You’re annoying,” Daishou grumbled. “Suga, make him eat with me.”

Kuroo startled at Sugawara’s lighthearted voice, his joyful laughter filling his ears. He didn’t hear him coming, his feet barely touched the ground, and when they did, it was silent. Sugawara danced through the hallway alongside Kuroo, not looking his way, but still his expression was light and his eyes were troubled. It was impressive how quickly Daishou noticed the silver-haired vampire arrive, without looking, without listening. These creatures of darkness surprised him every single day and somehow he found their heightened abilities comforting. As if his understanding of the world found them at the foundation. 

Why was it that moments of understanding humanity were fleeting and these moments were so certainly clear to him?

The thought made his chest stir.

“He can make his own decisions, Daishou, you and I know this very well,” Sugawara shared, offering the other vampire a wink.

Daishou retorted with a scowl and stuck out his tongue. The trio made their way towards the entrance of the science building and Kuroo suddenly remembered the first time he had met all of the vampires as he found them all huddled together, standing casually around a table, speaking to one another in hushed tones about the outburst from the green-haired vampire. How much hatred spewed from Daishou’s lips then, angry and violent, bitter and toxic, like thick poison had tainted his blood black and left him cold and heartless. And now, Daishou stood beside him. Closely. Curiously. There was no spite in his words, no intention to threaten, no intention to harm. He was not trying to force Kuroo away. He was inviting him.

What kind of hell was Daishou experiencing to be so angry? To act so lethal?

He had wanted to tell him something, that night, when Kuroo’s life changed. Kuroo wondered what it was. And why had Daishou changed so drastically? Was he not angry anymore? He understood the exposure to his scent, how he could become used to it over time. But was it still painful? How far could Kuroo press before the monster which dwelled within those yellow eyes emerged? The dark-haired boy was puzzled. He wanted to know more.

Daishou noticed Kuroo drifting from the present and touched him, lightly, grazing his fingertips over the top of his hand. Kuroo instinctively withdrew his hand, alarmed, but mumbled a soft apology when Daishou seemed disappointed.

“Don’t worry about Hinata, okay?” he mumbled, frowning. “He’ll come around. It’s not too often someone puts him in his place. He’s usually the one starting shit.”

Kuroo ran his hand through his hair, frowning when Sugawara peered at him, his expression unreadable again. Something familiar flashed across his cool brown eyes, but not in a comforting way, in a way which left him unsettled and uneasy. He shrugged, playing it off as if his chest suddenly wasn’t aching with a phantom pain. He wasn’t thinking about Hinata, but Kuroo wasn’t going to reveal to Daishou that all of his thoughts had been about him.

“I just hate seeing him this way,” he murmured. “I wish there was something I could do.”

Something wicked flashed across Daishou’s eyes and he grinned widely.

“I could give you a few ideas,” he snickered. “Get lunch with me.”

“It would make more sense if I understood everything,” Kuroo said, more to himself. “I still want to be his friend. I still want him to be a part of my life.”

Daishou glanced at Sugawara, seeking approval of some unspoken question. He nodded, despite the subtle hardening of his eyes. Daishou laughed.

“Secrets, secrets are no fun, unless you share with everyone,” he said in a sing-song voice, grinning. “Get lunch with me, Kuroo.”

For a split second, Sugawara looked sad. The kind of sadness only someone who knew true pain would understand. Kuroo did not understand it. Daishou did not understand it. He wondered what hurt Sugawara. He wondered what plagued his mind like a cancer, expanding and growing despite his attempts to sever the diseased parts.

“Okay.” Kuroo forced a smile, finding it difficult to ignore the wave of seeping sadness still lingering in his bones. 

  
  


***

“This is disgusting, holy shit,” Daishou groaned, spitting out a wad of half chewed tofu into a napkin, peeking up at Kuroo with his nose wrinkled, his eyes crinkled in a cute way. The dark-haired boy smirked, laughing more at his misfortune than anything else.

“Tofu doesn’t have much taste to begin with, I don’t know what you expected when you ordered tofu stir-fry,” Tsukishima muttered, taking a small bite of his own dish, a small plate of noodles and assorted, colorful vegetables, chewing thoughtfully. “This is fine, if you want to try it. But I’ll warn you, I’m pretty sensitive to broccoli, so it might be unpleasant for you.”

Kuroo munched on his lunch, watching the pair of vampires sitting across from him poke and prod at their meals, confused expressions on their faces. It was the only request Kuroo had when Daishou suggested lunch— that Daishou eat something as well. And when Tsukishima was dragged along by the green-haired vampire, he found his request to have been better than he imagined. It was with great joy he sat, observing these creatures consume food not meant for them, all the while being entertained by their casual conversation.

For the first time, he felt really connected to the vampire family. Tsukishima and Daishou carried on within themselves, not holding back their commentary, not filtering their words, not censoring anything related to them being vampires. It was refreshing. And unexpected. But, truly, what did Kuroo expect?

“What’s it like being sensitive to broccoli?” Daishou grimaced, frowning as he stabbed the green vegetable on Tsukishima’s plate, examining it with furrowed brows. “I can’t remember the last time I ate one of these.”

“Inconvenient.” Tsukishima took another bite, swallowing after chewing for a long time, his expression edging on absolutely disgusted.

Daishou took a bite of the broccoli and immediately set down his fork, frowning. Kuroo started laughing. Both Daishou and Tsukishima glanced up at him, both of their eyes boring into him as if Kuroo was the oddest being to ever exist in this realm. Two pairs of yellow eyes, one a rich honey yellow and the other a shimmering golden. Both boy’s mouths twitched into small smirks and Kuroo found he enjoyed them both. Tsukishima pointed his fork in Kuroo’s direction, accusingly.

“You sure are laughing a lot for someone who almost died of hypothermia,” he said. “How’s your cough?”

“It’s better,” Kuroo replied. “It hurts less. I’m through the thick of the sickness, I think.”

“You still look like shit.” Tsukishima took another uninterested bite of his food. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were dead like us.”

Kuroo blinked in response. Did he really look that bad? When he gazed at himself in the mirror, running his fingers furiously through his unfortunate case of bedhead which never seemed to settle comfortably on his head, he saw his sunken expression, the remnants of death clinging to the tightness of his sharpened cheekbones, and all of the shadows on his face were reminders of how narrowly he skated past the forever blackhole. He subconsciously drew his fingers to the hollows of his cheeks, finding he once had more softness there. He puzzled over the skin, wondering where it had gone. Had his diet changed significantly? He knew his sleep had. Maybe Hinata wasn’t completely wrong in his assessment of his sanity. Maybe there was an edge of madness to him.

“You’re not dead yet, Kuroo,” Daishou reassured him, reaching across the table and grazed his fingers along the back of Kuroo’s hand, causing the dark-haired boy to remove his fingers and find Daishou’s eyes. Daishou grinned earnestly at him. “Even if you look the part.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes, pushing him away as the green-haired boy snickered. Tsukishima eyed the pair, curiously, and eventually allowed half a smile. Daishou did not seem to notice Tsukshima’s wary gaze and he just grinned a toothy grin, one Kuroo would describe as wicked and cruel, however the light which sparkled behind his yellow eyes did not share the same experience. There was a warmth behind them that he would have once been afraid of, the kind of warmth that seemed calculating and cold, but instead was alight with curiosity and softened wonderment. Like Daishou was excited to see what Kuroo would do next. What he would say next. Like he was easily the most fascinating person he had ever met.

He wondered if this is how he looked at him before the attack or if this is a product of his survival.

“Sugawara is in a better mood today,” Tsukishima stated, pulling Kuroo’s attention away. “But I can’t understand why.”

“He was pretty intimidating the other day,” Kuroo observed, frowning into his drink, ignoring the touch of warmth on the tops of his cheeks. “But today, he seemed pretty pleasant. Is he normally like that? Y’know, when he was talking with you guys. Are you guys afraid of him?”

Daishou sputtered on the drink he was sipping, clasping onto Tsukishima’s shoulder to steady himself while Tsukishima bit back his own laughter by covering his mouth with his hand. Daishou stared at him with wild eyes, bordering on hysterical, impish glee. He shared a mischievous glance with the blond boy before speaking.

“Are we afraid of him?” Daishou repeated. He laughed again. “Kuroo, if you ever end up on his bad side, if for even a moment you can see a flash of annoyance on that pretty face of his, get out. Immediately. Don’t think twice about it. Just get as far away from him as you can.”

Tsukishima nodded, solemnly.

“Was he mad at me for almost drowning?” Kuroo asked, remembering the way the silver-haired boy frantically grabbed onto him and forced him to feel better, pushing the strength of his allure over him so intensely his thoughts blurred together and made his pain fade away as if it had never been there at all, as if Sugawara himself could with his eyes alone heal him. He remembered how agitated he had become when Tsukishima and Hinata asked him to leave. Because it was hurting more than helping. Because Kuroo’s thoughts were no longer his own.

Tsukishima shook his head. “No, he wasn’t mad at you. He was probably pissed at Daichi. That was when they had fought, right? Right before Daishou and I came back from hunting?”

Kuroo nodded.

“Do they do that a lot?”

Tsukishima looked at Daishou and Daishou shrugged. “More than Nishinoya and Asahi, that’s for certain.”

Kuroo opened his mouth to ask another question, but Daishou raised his palm and silenced him. “Listen, Kuroo, there’s something you need to understand about Sugawara. You will never understand him. If he wants to reveal a piece of himself to you, that will be on his own terms. There are things that have happened to him that aren’t ours to share. Just remember, we follow him for a reason.”

“He’s the most powerful vampire I’ve ever met,” Tsukishima said, quietly, staring away from Kuroo, somewhere faraway, like he was stuck on a memory.

“More than—?” Daishou tried, genuinely curious.

“More than him.” Tsukishima’s jaw had clenched and mild anger flashed in his eyes. 

Kuroo wanted to ask who they were talking about, but held his tongue. Something about the edge of Tsukishima’s voice and the tension growing in his shoulders had him staying silent. Were they referencing Daichi? Perhaps Asahi? Based on the power dynamic he had overheard, Daichi and Asahi seemed to be of the higher ranked members of the family. Perhaps it was this mysterious Ennoshita. Or perhaps it was the nameless man Sugawara had scorned before Daichi could finish his sentence.

Perhaps it was him.

“Can you answer something else for me then?” Kuroo asked, keeping his eyes averted, feeling some kind of shame building in his chest. As if he shouldn’t know the answer to this question.

Tsukishima nodded.

“Why did all of you expect me to break?”

There was a long pause as Daishou suddenly leaned back in his seat and watched Kuroo with hesitant and guarded eyes. The corner of his mouth lingered with a smirk, as if he was reflecting back on something that was once funny but now did not hold the same humor as before. Tsukishima did not react at all, as if he expected the question, and he cooly replied.

“Vampires tend not to leave human victims alive. It’s extremely rare when someone escapes after we reveal ourselves.” Tsukishima stared intently at Kuroo, his golden eyes twinkling. “Most of the time the person’s psyche shatters immediately and they end up dying by their own hand. We only know one person who uncovered our secret and lived long enough to carry its effects into his next life.”

Daishou’s jaw clenched. “Let’s be fair, Tsukki, Hinata didn’t live much longer after finding out about us.” He shot a glance to Kuroo, smirking. “He died the very next day, don’t be fooled by Tsukki’s storytelling.”

“And yet, he is the most human of us all.”

Daishou rolled his eyes, his annoyance clear on his face.

“How quickly did you forget your humanity, Daishou?” Tsukishima’s voice had hardened, surprising the human boy by how quickly his energy had shifted. Tsukishima was not a particularly emotive individual, his face and eyes revealed near nothing of the contents of his mind. It kept Kuroo on edge most of the time, perhaps a product of his practiced composure, perhaps a product of his vampirism, or if he simply had always carried himself this way. So when his voice took on a hardness or he was quick to snap back, it always made the dark-haired boy curious. It made him lean forward, expectantly. Something was coming. “When you turned, when did you forget what your mother looked like? How soon did you forget your best friend’s name? Or what town you were born in?”

Kuroo suddenly felt very uncomfortable, as if he was learning about something very private. It was weird to him, weird to his minor understanding of humanity and how fickle it was for himself to grasp. But he never really considered it from the perspective of a monster’s. What was humanity to someone who had not an ounce of it left within them? The vampires liked to remind Kuroo that they were human first— and Hinata disclosed the unkind truth of the statement, that they were all the worst parts of humanity— but what were they really besides just shells of humans filled up with monsters inside?

Or did the monster crave humanity as well? Did the beasts within crave to return to their natural state so desperately they were blinded by violence? By blood?

Who were these creatures of darkness before him and why did he feel so bad for them?

What kind of fool craves his weakness?

Daishou’s expression soured and his guarded eyes narrowed accusingly, as if Tsukihsima had touched on a subject he was not supposed to. But still Daishou did not withhold his tongue, his words laced with venom, burning Kuroo indirectly with their heat.

“Less than a month,” he growled. “I had forgotten everything in less than a month.”

“And when did Hinata forget?” Tsukishima asked.

“He never did.” Daishou huffed and dropped his eyes from the table, earning a small chuckle from Kuroo at the way his small form, once intense and powerful, shrinking away from Tsukishima like he was afraid of being scolded. Like he was a child in the presence of an authoritarian adult. Something clicked for Kuroo.

“How old are you, Daishou?” Kuroo asked, finding his eyes for the first time in a while and holding them. Daishou’s face was unreadable, his eyes steady and searching for something in Kuroo. He was not sure what he was looking for exactly, but when Daishou had found it— whatever it was— Daishou’s arrogant expression softened to a point of total fragility. Kuroo was not sure who he was looking at anymore.

“How old was I when I died or how old am I now?” His voice was soft and sad, and maybe a little bit afraid. Afraid of what Kuroo might say. Afraid of what Kuroo might do. Kuroo wondered how often the vampires had conversations like this, simply about their ages, about their lives before they turned, about their lives when they turned, and all the time in between. And beyond that, how many times did this come up to a person who did not understand? How could he understand? He was only human after all. His existence has been limited to his two decades of life.

The human boy did not respond at all.

He didn’t know how to.

“I was in my early twenties, I think, when I was killed. The only thing I remember from my human life was a satchel of bloodied letters. One was addressed to Benjamin Franklin. A few for George Washington. I’m pretty sure I had a few letters from Paul Revere as well.”

It was easy to say he was surprised. Kuroo didn’t know what he expected, but it was not that.

Kuroo sputtered, earning a chuckle from Tsukishima. “The American Revolution? You were alive during the American Revolution?”

His mind was reeling as he placed down his silverware, leaning away from the table, and staring off into the distance. He tried to imagine the green-haired boy with his fragile human form, with a satchel of letters meant for the leaders of the American Revolution. He wondered if his shoulders had been slumped with shyness, with uncertainty and fear, slipping past British soldiers, slipping past English spies, or if he held himself with the same certainty and arrogance as he did now. Prideful, patriotic, a servant to the birth of a baby country he believed in. Or if he had served against his will. All of his questions were met with sadness as he watched Daishou hide his face by taking a drink from his cup— an unnecessary action, solely meant to break the devastating tension building between the two. And sadness washed over him as he realized that, maybe, Daishou did not know the answers to his questions.

And that, maybe, he should not press so hard.

“How old are you, Tsukishima?”

“Much older than that.” He smiled, thinly. His impassive eyes held years of age he did not understand, years of stories he could not fathom, and years of blood and torture, and the incessant suffering of a man who does not live and does not die.

Kuroo blinked, astonished. He was not certain what he expected, but it was not this.

“Hinata is the youngest of us all, which is why his attachment to humanity is perhaps so strong. He was turned not so long ago. I don’t expect him to remember his early life forever, but he always surprises me,” Tsukishima shared. He did not sound particularly sad about this fact, but the lack of emotion did not seem to be forced. He seemed complacent. Kuroo could imagine it would be easy to accept something as radical as this life. Tsukishima was not a human and he never will be again.

The same for Daishou.

He wondered if they missed the color of their mother’s eyes.

Or if they knew her name at all.

But Hinata held all of these memories locked away in his tiny body, held all of these facts behind his shining amber eyes, and his happy grin. The others must hold so much envy. And if Sugawara was the oldest? No wonder he ached for humanity. No wonder he clung to Hinata’s values more intensely than the others. It was something he has not had for, perhaps, centuries, according to the others. He had to have missed it.

“Hinata is young and he will continue to make mistakes that we will never understand because he experiences his life as a vampire so differently from us,” Daishou grumbled, more into his hand as he rested his elbow on the table. “He suffered for a very long time after he turned. It’s easy to embrace this life when you don’t have any connections to your old one anymore. But Hinata always remembered. That’s why he’s so protective of you, I think.”

Kuroo stayed quiet, silently urging Daishou to carry on.

“He knows how it feels to have your entire world flipped on its head. He knows how it feels to lose absolute control of reality, of what it means to be human, of what it means to be a monster.” Kuroo had never seen Daishou appear so serious, his brows furrowed as the words came from somewhere deep in his chest. As if they had been locked away for a long time and he was now dusting away the cobwebs, trying to remember what the words looked like before all of this. “You mention navigating this feeling of floating through this ‘in-between’. I think he understands what you mean better than you think.”

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s an annoying piece of shit,” Tsukishima scowled. “He made my life miserable the day he was dragged into my family and ruined something really good. Before him, our family functioned well. We worked together. Everyone had a purpose and then he was reborn as a vampire and completely shattered it. He was never meant to be a vampire. And now we are divided because of him.”

Hinata’s words echoed in Kuroo’s mind and he felt his stomach twist with the familiar sensation of nausea. He did not understand the words when Hinata had said them, nor many of the things he had revealed to him in those soft moments they shared, but now, the pieces began to make sense.

_ I didn’t want to die, either. _

This was not a choice he made of his own accord. His life as a monster was not one he willingly engaged in. His life as a human was taken from him and into his second life, he struggled to find his purpose again.

_ All I’ve ever wanted since I was turned was to be a part of your world again. And since I’ve met you, this is the closest I’ve ever been. _

This was the closest he’s ever been.

Kuroo bit his lip, anxiously, picking at the dry skin and finding his hand tugging at the ends of his long hair. He swiftly pushed the hair back and found Daishou’s eyes. His yellow eyes watched him, there was a hint of hunger there, but not the kind fueled by a monster. His stare was unnerving, as if he had suddenly seen Kuroo for the very first time and could not understand from where he came. Kuroo shifted, uncomfortably, but could not break his gaze.

“What happened to him?” Kuroo asked, his voice wavering slightly.

“This was not the original family he was born into. There were more of us before Daichi and Asahi and Sugawara and the rest,” Daishou said, his voice like ice. Cold and unforgiving. “Sugawara was not his original master.”

“Sugawara didn’t turn him, like some of the others,” Tsukishima sneered. “He was never meant to be turned. He was a nuisance. An accident. A rash decision in the heat of a moment and it destroyed our family.”

“This is not your whole family?” Kuroo asked. The innocence of the question would soon come to burn him. “That’s where Ennoshita came from? And Kageyama? They were part of your family, right?”

Daishou cackled, startling Kuroo, causing him to jump in his seat and bang his knees on the table. He winced and for half a second Tsukishima seemed apologetic, but it faded quickly and Kuroo’s attention returned to the heat of Daishou’s words.

“No, this is not our family. There were many more of us. Our family split when Hinata drove a wedge between us. There was an us and a them, with no compromise in between. He destroyed us, devastated Sugawara, broke a lot of vampire rules, and now he’s continuing to press us all.” Daishou was snarling now, his voice a growl in his throat. Unresolved emotions bubbled to attention and he clearly struggled with maintaining them. “I thought Kageyama would be the answer, but Hinata fucked that up, too.”

“Careful with words that are sharp, Daishou,” Tsukishima said, softly, indirectly.

Kuroo puzzled at the statements. “But you’re here, right? The us versus them? You’re with Sugawara’s family. You went with him and not the others? So something must have happened that you agreed with. Am I wrong?”

Tsukishima stared at him, seriously. “I will follow Sugawara to my death, Kuroo. It does not matter the outcome of our family’s division. I was always going to follow Sugawara.”

“Can you tell me what happened?” Kuroo fingers fidgeted in his lap, picking at the skin around his nails. “What did Hinata do?”

“I wish it had been as simple as a matter of diet, Kuroo. That’s what we called it, though. After centuries of hunting humans without a problem, suddenly it became taboo. Suddenly humanity meant something to us again,” Daishou looked distant, his hardened eyes faded and angry. He seemed so troubled, so bothered by this conversation Kuroo anxiously wanted to change the subject, but this was the most he had ever gotten from the others. Their life before this one, with the rest of their family, was a mystery to him. “If Sugawara hadn’t been so intrigued by Hinata, I don’t think we would be here right now.”

Tsukishima nodded, solemnly, his expression unreadable. “Suga has been around for so long nothing surprised him anymore. But Hinata did. Hinata surprised him. Hinata caught him off guard.”

“We remember our humanity in flashes, faded, distant memories that mean nothing to us,” Daishou said, softly, staring intently into his glass of water. “But Sugawara never remembers.”

The statement fell heavy upon Kuroo’s ears, yet there was nothing he could say in return.

“I think you surprise him, Kuroo,” Tsukishima said. “I think you surprise all of us.”

Daishou nodded in agreement.

“And I think Hinata sees himself in you,” Tsukishima said, meeting his eyes. His golden eyes were twinkling behind his glasses, piercing and striking, and taking all the breath out of his lungs. He saw something in his eyes so deep that it challenged him to keep breathing, to steady his breath and use his chest for something besides holding his heart still. For a moment, the universe held its breath. “Hinata was a human who got tangled up with vampires in an unforgiving way. There’s a reason we don’t keep humans like pets. I always told you it was dangerous— and it still is.”

Tsukishima’s pretty eyes flashed again. “Don’t end up like him.”

The something he did not understand stirred in his chest again. He grimaced and absently placed his hand upon his chest, clutching at the soft fabric of his shirt, his eyes and mind elsewhere, heeding the blond boy’s words in disquieting silence. It was not a threat, but a demand. It was a space that Tsukishima had made for him. All the vampires had made it clear they had accepted Kuroo into their family from the very beginning, but Tsukishima and Daishou held different values. Their attraction to humanity was not born from a foundation of envy, nor intention to return to a life they have not lived for centuries— they were attracted to other things. Perhaps, it was to follow a vampire they valued strongly. Perhaps, it was to reclaim a power which had been stripped from them. The right to choose, an authority over their diet, strength without allowing a monster to own them. And now, both Tsukishima and Daishou held Kuroo’s humanity close to them, accepting, and seeing the dark-haired boy beyond just his fragile shell as a human.

They saw Kuroo as himself, for the first time, and carved out this space for him to exist alongside them. It made his chest swell with warmth, the same kind of warmth reserved for those moments when he was hyper aware of his humanity. And as he met the vampire’s eyes, both shining yellows, they looked at him with an unfamiliar kind of intensity which made the human want to pull his shoulders back and sit a little straighter. He noticed that when he moved to take another meaningless bite of food, they moved as well. Responsively. Connected to him. They were truly all a part of the same family now. He was one of them. He had all of this now.

Under one condition, however— he does not end up like Hinata. That only meant one thing to the dark-haired boy as he settled into a comfortable silence with Daishou and Tsukishima, under their watchful gazes, their lips turned into satisfied smiles.

He does not die.

But Kuroo could not promise that.

It was not in his stars.

“Can I ask one more question?”

Daishou nodded, suddenly remembering to feign humanity and taking another bite of his flavorless food to match Kuroo’s movements.

“Who is Kageyama?”

“Ask Hinata.”

***

Kuroo soon came to learn the worst part of his sickness was not over when he was hunched over a trashcan while his body trembled as it rejected the contents of his meal from earlier in the day. Perhaps it was the food itself which made him sick, or that he had misjudged the duration of the worst parts of his cold, but deep down, as he spit into the trash can, his breath heavy in his ears and his hair slicked back with sweat, he knew that the matters of his conversation may have been the culprit which soured his insides and left him panting and ill late into the night.

He had tried to sleep, but found to be restless, the twisting and churning of his stomach and the aching of his chest too overwhelming for the dark-haired boy. The scenes from the day kept playing out in his head like a film. He kept going over and over what the vampires had disclosed to him, opening themselves up and revealing some of the darkest parts of their lives, the parts they did not remember, but were still somehow important. He wondered about all of them, not just Daishou, not just Tsukishima, but all the rest and what effect the lack of their humanity meant to them. He wondered who they all would be without the curse of darkness as it turned their skin pale, with painted black veins, and their eyes black and red. And the thought made him ill.

He couldn’t remember what time it was when he had startled awake, the sky outside was still black, thick clouds masking whatever lurked behind them, hiding his stars away from him. He couldn’t remember how he had staggered across his bedroom, over his mess of clothes on the floor, over his scattered assignments he couldn’t remember completing. He couldn’t remember collapsing to his knees, his entire body trembling, shaking with a chill he had forgotten but his body knew well, and vomited until his throat was raw and his vision was blurry with tears.

He couldn’t remember washing his mouth out and wandering back into his bedroom, his mind a mess of thoughts about vampires, about black eyes, about cold water, and a chill so cold it felt like his insides had frozen over and his soul ached to be released from the icy cell it had been imprisoned in. His dark room seemed to expand before him, the walk back to his bed stretching on for years and years, and by the time he had collapsed back into it, breath a wheeze in his ears, and sweat touching his brow again, he was unable to hear the creak of his floor as a phantom moved effortlessly in his room without his knowing.

“You’re still unwell.”

Had it been another person, he may have shouted, alarmed by the sudden voice in the darkness, abrupt in his sick daze. But, the voice was gentle and soothing, however unexpected. He clutched at his blankets and tried to pull them over his head, panting open-mouthed and uncomfortable. For some reason, he was unbothered by the arrival of this late night visitor. Perhaps it was the effects of his allure, like a cloud of comfort, filling his room up with softness and safety. But that was not totally true. There was an edge to the air, a note of hysteria which left the human boy touched by anxiety. He thought, if he had startled, if he had cried out in surprise, he may have broken the tension and released something hellish and unexpected based on the way the air brimmed with mania. 

“Some nights are worse than others,” Kuroo said, his throat scratchy and hoarse from his puking. He could not help the edge of fear from touching his words. “What are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sugawara said, softly, his voice floating closer to Kuroo as he hid in his bed. “I’ve been thinking about a lot of different things, Kuroo.”

Slowly, Kuroo began to pull the sheet from over his head, and the image of Sugawara surprised him. Sugawara was a beacon of light, his smile as soft as a feather, and the way his cool brown eyes invited warmth always left Kuroo feeling a little lightheaded and uncertain with himself. Sugawara was like falling in love, simple and easy and unexpected. It did not matter if this was a product of his allure or the innate sense of fear birthed from his being an apex predator, it will always be Sugawara. Sugawara will always be gentle and he will be kind and his movements were fine and practiced and dancelike. But in this moment, as Kuroo peered through the weighty darkness, he saw a different side of Sugawara. A side which scared him more than anything else.

The silver-haired vampire seemed feral. His soft eyes were hardened and weary, heavy blue circles painted his under-eyes with an exhaustion which bordered on mania, like sleep had not come to him in decades. There was a wild glint in his eye, like madness verged on consuming him completely, his mouth pinched into a hard frown and the softness of his skin seemed stretched and thinned. His hair was wild, like his hands had relentlessly tangled in the long locks, leaving him looking unkempt and unsteady.

But his voice was like velvet.

And that scared Kuroo the most.

“Are you okay, Suga?” Kuroo asked, his voice small, sitting up in the bed as the vampire paced around his unlit bedroom, shimmering in the shadows like an angel of darkness. Beautiful and terrifying. Was this the Sugawara Tsukishima would die for?

The vampire stared at him with his wild and hungry eyes, grinning, flashing his teeth at him in an unfriendly way. “Of course not. Whatever made you think that I was okay? I can’t stop thinking, Kuroo. Every single second of every single day my thoughts are racing around my mind like a tornado. Destroying everything I built to protect myself. All of it is crashing around me.”

The boy laughed— cackled, really— like a broken animal trying its best to cling onto whatever sanity he had left. It was like he was unraveling before Kuroo. And he was terrified to find out what was to come next. So he held his tongue and let him speak, afraid that whatever he had to say would only amplify Sugawara’s emotions.

“I know what you talked about with the boys.” Sugawara suddenly turned on his heel and approached Kuroo’s window, staring up into the night sky as he, too, waited for the stars to return to him. “So you know about my family. You know about who we used to be.”

Kuroo hesitated, unsure of how to answer. “They didn’t tell me too much, to be honest, Sugawara. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

Sugawara whipped around to face him, grinning, his speech pressured and rapid, pouring past his lips as if he could no longer hold onto them. “Me? Worried about what you know? Not ever, Kuroo. Not once. No, no, I am much more concerned about other things regarding our family. Did they tell you about Kageyama? Or about the rest of them? What about my old lover? The one before Daichi promised me his everlasting love and loyalty?” His eyes flashed angrily before they hollowed and emptied of warmth. “Did Tsukishima tell you about how they are murderers? Or did Daishou tell you about how they would rather see us dead than return to them, begging on our knees to be accepted back into their arms like pathetic little maggots?”

Kuroo did not have a second to think before Sugawara rounded up on him, leaning close to his face, breathing in his rich scent, his eyes widened. Paranoid. Sugawara was afraid. This is what his fear looked like.

“I need to know the truth. You need to tell me what you saw in those trees. Did you see yellow eyes?” Sugawara grabbed Kuroo’s face with one unfriendly hand, pinching his chin between his fingers so hard Kuroo was certain he would bruise. He tried to pull his face away but everything within him kept him frozen. As if the universe held him in a vice grip to push Sugawara’s agenda. He couldn’t look away, even though his body shouted at him to move, he was immobile. He was useless. Weak. A victim to Sugawara’s strength. A victim to the waves of allure as they crashed over him like currents of electricity. “I can take your sickness away. I can make you feel better. Whatever you want from me, I’ll give it to you, but you  _ have  _ to tell me the truth. I have to know what you saw.”

As if on command, the air between them shifted. With one flash of Sugawara’s eyes, his pupils pulsed and in one sweeping sensation, Kuroo’s head was spinning. The air had changed from stuffy and thick with sickness into something light and airy. His lungs breathed deeply for the first time in months and then, it was ripped from him so suddenly that he was whimpering and wheezing, clutching desperately onto Sugawara for support. Support he did not give him, tearing himself away, sending Kuroo collapsing into his bed as his ailments clouded his vision and made him retch and gasp. He was suddenly so aware of the weakness of his body, of his bones, of his muscles, and he felt the sickness sitting in his chest like a heavy weight. He stared up at Sugawara who glowered back at him, his sudden rise in power terrifying the human boy. Before, he knew Sugawara was an ancient vampire, powerful and authoritative, but from his sunken position on his bed, staring into his light and violent eyes, he knew how incorrect his assumptions had been.

He could not conceptualize the strength the ashy-haired boy held before him. But, God, how he could conceptualize the fear as it wracked him.

How much of this was true and how much of this was a tactic used by Sugawara’s vampire ability? How much of his allure could be weaponized? Kuroo did not know for certain as his mind was racing with a thousand thoughts to try and appease the vampire before him. To offer up every memory as it struggled to come forward and present itself as fact.

“Speak, Kuroo,” Sugawara hissed.

Immediately, the human boy found his voice. “I don’t know anything about your family.”

Sugawara’s grin was wicked and cruel, and the way his eyes narrowed in on him made the human boy squirm with uncertainty and an unbearable desire to bend at his knees before him.

“You are strong,” the vampire hummed, deep in his throat. He looked away from Kuroo and clenched his jaw. A sense of sadness washed over the human boy as he clutched at his blankets, fingers absently touching at the spot on his chin where Sugawara gripped his chin. “I noticed it the other day when you were in the room with us. There has always been something unique about you. The way you hold yourself before us is unbeknown to other humans. You are not like the rest of them.”

Kuroo sat up in the bed, pressing his palms heavily into his eyes, waiting until he saw white behind them and released the shuddering breath he had been holding the deepest part of his chest cavity. “Suga, why are you here? I don’t feel well. I don’t know what you want from me. Why couldn’t this have waited until morning?”

“I don’t know,” He answered honestly. He sounded sad. Like he had been defeated by his own thoughts. That this was his only option. He looked at Kuroo with empty eyes. “I have to know what you saw. I can’t stop thinking about what you said. You saw yellow eyes, peering at you, leering from the trees. And you  _ chased  _ them. You must have seen something else— you must have heard something else— I don’t believe you lied, I don’t believe you tried to kill yourself.”

The room shifted again as an intense pressure started to form at the base of his throat, like the room wanted him to speak again, but instead the feeling constricted his breathing. His hands flew up to his throat, panicked, meeting Sugawara’s eyes. The vampire seemed conflicted, apologetic but unwilling to lift whatever power he had placed over the human boy. Sugawara was going to get what he wanted and he seemed to be someone who never failed at that.

“Try to remember that night.” Sugawara’s voice was faraway and disconnected from his body. “Try to remember what you saw.”

As if on command, Kuroo hurdled through darkness. The kind of darkness only his mind would be able to create as it expanded before him like the very blackhole which he once stared into and turned away from. But this blackhole was not endless and empty, and if he peered over the ledge he stood on and stared into its depths, he was startled to find himself staring back. But instead of seeing himself as he was, he saw himself sinking, he saw himself reaching out with his face red and bloated as he watched himself choking on invisible water. He saw himself thrashing, violently at first, and then weaker and weaker as his eyelids filtered shut, soon enough, Kuroo watched himself start to die. 

He watched his face go pale, he watched himself start to sink, further and further from the surface. He watched with wide, horrified eyes, as his body had given up. And all at once he remembered the pain, the sharp sting as he desperately tried to breathe, as his lungs begged for air. He remembered the stinging of his throat as the soft flesh there ripped and shredded with his gasping and choking and drowning and dying. And he remembered the coldness as it leeched the warmth out of his body, leaving his bones broken and brittle. A coldness so intense it had frozen over his entire soul, leaving whatever was left inside his chest a barren wasteland where the lonely were meant to wander. And he has been wandering ever since, he thought.

Wandering somewhere between the sky and the ocean.

He released a sob from his throat, absently touching his cheek to find wetness there. He did not cry further, but the noise as it ripped itself from his chest made him want to. Instead, he lifted his gaze from the nightmare as it played out before him. He looked away from himself as his body drowned and died before him.

And at the other side of the blackhole, on the other side of the lake, he saw the trees. And he saw beyond them.

He saw the yellow eyes he was meant to find— but, they were not yellow at all. Staring. Watching. Waiting.

He remembered the last thing he had seen before water rushed over his head, before he knew only cold and pain.

The eyes had been blue.

They were never yellow.

Even as he stared, from the balcony, deep into the woods on that cold winter night, when he had been searching for the stars— the eyes that found him first were not yellow. They were blue.

They had always been blue.

But who did they belong to?


	18. the boy who did and the boy who didn't.

“You seem pretty distracted, Kuroo,” Kenma said, gently poking his forearm at the desk they shared at the library. “You haven’t turned your page in twenty minutes and I’m still waiting for you to answer question seven on the back of our calculus homework.” 

“What are you saying?” the dark-haired boy replied, blinking, absently, turning his attention to Kenma but not able to fully to focus. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

Kenma gave him a funny look and after a while, sighed, placing his hands on top of the table. “I think we have to call it a night. I’m tired, you’re tired. We aren’t getting anything done.”

Kuroo felt an urge to retort, but it fell away from him before he could open his mouth. Kenma eyed him curiously and eventually sighed, heavier than before, brows twinging with annoyance. Kuroo saw the action, knew it well from his entire friendship with the blond boy, but still, his breath was caught in his throat. And his words fell away. And he could only sit, and think, and blink, and ignore the rise of shame and confusion as it touched his person. But he still didn’t say anything at all.

He just stared at his notebook, open on the table, untouched and unlearned, and he tried to think back to a time when studying came easy to him and he remembered how to care about his midterms. His head moved in slow motion, his thoughts no longer whirring a thousand miles per hour as he tried to keep up with them, like he struggled through a thick sludge, like his feet were weighed down by heavy chains, that any time he tried to move, he moved farther and farther away from the things he really cared about.

Part of the problem was what he cared about seemed to shift so frequently and every time he thought he truly understood where his values were, he seemed to confuse himself more and more.

“Kuroo, dude,” Kenma grumbled, standing closer than he had a moment before.

It took Kuroo too long to look up at him from his seat.

“Huh?” he said. “Sorry, Kenma, what did you say?”

When his attention found Kenma completely, the shorter boy was scowling, his mouth twisted and his eyes narrowed. It was clear he was annoyed and the same thing happened again— he felt the bubble of regret, the breath made up of an apology, and it fell away before he could do anything at all. Kenma studied him for a while, holding his breath in his throat as if he too struggled to formulate words. Kenma, fortunately, was quicker to find them. Unfortunately, Kuroo was not ready to hear them.

“Dude, are you going to pass your midterms?” he asked, seriously. “I haven’t seen you studying properly in weeks.”

Kuroo nodded, his attention already slipping elsewhere, his eyes falling upon the endless rows of bookcases. He still had not reached out to close his notebook, he still had not moved to rise to his feet, to exit with Kenma as he always would. To walk back with him to his dorm. To say goodnight. But Kuroo was stuck.

“What’s up with you, Kuroo?” Kenma said, softer this time, his judgmental brows furrowed deeper on his face. “Let me help you with whatever is going on. I can handle it. You and I have been through worse.”

Kuroo smiled thinly, his words heavy on his chest, pressing onto a spot he liked to not remember. Kenma and himself have been through worse, combating the struggles of youth together, hand in hand. Facing head on playground bullies and tolerating the wrath of judgmental and cruel parents. Together, they did it. But tonight, they were no longer together. Something stood between them, unspoken and unbearable, separating them from one another in a way which would have once destroyed Kuroo from the inside out. But there was nothing left to destroy and still, Kuroo kept his eyes averted as he struggled to ignore the rising tightness in his throat as more words fell away from him.

Kenma stood there for a while, waiting for Kuroo. He would always wait on his friend. There would never be a moment in which he would walk away from him— truly and sincerely away from him. Kenma reached out and touched his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo managed, finding the words harder to speak aloud than how they formed in his mind, spelling out the entire monologue he wished to go on. He fought the urge to tell him everything, to reveal the secret he has been holding within him since that fateful day in the back alleyway. But he knew he could not. “When midterms are over, we’ll talk.”

“After midterms, then,” Kenma accepted. He watched Kuroo for another long moment, waiting for his eyes to find him, and when they never did, he sighed. He began to walk away. “Get some rest, Kuroo.”

Kenma left him alone in the library, his things spread out before him like a reminder of a life he once understood, where his goals were clear and his future made sense. But he could not access that part of himself while his mind moved slowly through a series of events as they had burned themselves behind his eyes, trying to make peace with himself, with the memories, and with what this meant.

Because he was afraid when Sugawara had appeared suddenly in his bedroom, wild and frantic with his own fear. He was afraid when Sugawara manipulated his feelings, providing him with the promise of easy breathing and warmth. He was afraid when Sugawara ripped that from him without a second thought, sending him spiraling into dreamland where his nightmares returned to him as if they missed him so desperately they were unwilling to release him from their icy grip. But when he emerged the darkness, when the coldness of his memory slipped away, when he returned to his bedroom and found Sugawara’s brown eyes watchful and waiting—

He had not been afraid.

When Sugawara gripped his shoulders, staring at him, urgently asking him what he had seen, what was the truth— he lied.

Effortlessly.

Through his teeth, he lied.

Kuroo held onto the secret firmly in his chest, just like the rest of his secrets, as he stared forward, sitting in the library, attention fixed on his notebook while his mind was somewhere else and faraway. And he wondered, as his thoughts trudged through the thick sludge of his misunderstanding, why he was no longer afraid of the ashy-haired vampire. And why did he not tell him the truth— because what would it mean if he had admitted to seeing blue eyes hidden amongst the trees? And why, when he said the words so effectively, so easily, lying as if it was such a simple task, did he suddenly feel a surge of power?

He remembered the feeling well. Sugawara’s eyes were intense, wave after wave of forced allure radiated from the silver-haired boy, demanding the truth from Kuroo’s lips. He felt it like white hot heat on his skin, an overwhelming pressure to comply with the vampire’s words, so thick and heavy he found himself panting to resist its crushing motive. The words were being pulled out of his mouth whether he wanted them free or not. And suddenly, something inside his chest snapped, and the feeling of pressure vanished. It had faded rapidly and the lie had fallen out instead. 

It was as if his own power had suddenly emerged from somewhere buried in his chest and it filled out every inch of him. Like a shield against the allure. A layer of invincibility. A rush of defense. It lasted for a moment. Long enough to lie about seeing phantom yellow eyes instead of those ominous and haunting blue. Long enough to take the power back from the silver-haired vampire. And he did not understand completely what this meant. The feeling disappeared. And he was left confused and restless again.

After Sugawara had left, he remembered being hunched over the toilet, emptying the remaining contents of his stomach. He had suddenly felt very, very cold. As if the surge of power had pulled all the warmth from his muscles and he trembled until he passed out again.

What did it mean to hold this secret while Sugawara did not?

Why was he no longer afraid of him?

What was it that possessed him to lie? And was it too late to go back?

Yes, it certainly was.

***

The house was quiet when Kuroo was left alone, sitting on the floor, fingers pressing into the rug so that he may feel connected to something. The silence came so abruptly, that when it suddenly vanished, he felt overwhelmed by the intensity of the quiet. 

The living room had been bursting at the seams with life, filling the space with laughter, with bright and true tones. Asahi and Nishinoya spent the evening sipping mysterious liquids from rustic-looking mugs on the couch, giggling and poking one another on the nose as their cheeks slowly began to turn warm with pink flush. They contributed to the conversation as well as they could before Nishinoya ended up pressing himself against Asahi’s chest, nestled neatly against him, dozing with soft snores and his small hands clutching fistfuls of his lover’s shirt. Daichi sat nearby, Sugawara sitting on the floor between his legs, letting the dark-haired boy idly run his fingers through his hair, silently and intently as if he were waiting for the silver-haired boy to suddenly move and exit the room. He never did, though, the softness of Sugawara’s face comfortable and calm, his eyes fluttering shut after a while with a content smile pulling at the edges of his mouth. Daichi seemed content too, after a while, easing into comfortable silence with his boy, who, eventually, reached up quietly and intertwined their fingers. He kissed the tips of his fingers and Daichi seemed to melt into the touch.

Kuroo sat away from them all, soaking up their presence, pretending nothing existed beyond this room. No monsters lurking in the darkness, no mysterious blue eyes looming from the trees, no midterms creeping closer as the days passed— only the sound of laughter as it sounded through the halls, bursting from his chest as his head was tossed back with joy. For a little while, his chest felt full. For a little while, his laughter was genuine. For a little while, whatever coldness his body had created for him, whatever chill lingered in the darkest parts of his mind, whatever worry gnawed its way into his thoughts drifted away. He was light until he was not.

And when Asahi scooped up his boy from the couch, still asleep and snoring, and when Sugawara rose to his feet, still clutching Daichi’s hand, the light in the room vanished with them all.

“You’re welcome to stay the night,” Daichi had said, Sugawara’s tired eyes capturing all of his attention. “Your room is still yours.” He looked away from his lover for only a moment, smiling at Kuroo, before slipping away with him into their own space.

“Goodnight, Kuroo,” Asahi had said, his lids heavy with drunken sleepiness as well, his dark hair hanging in his face. “Noya would wish you the same if he had any tolerance at all.” Asahi chuckled, holding his boy closer than before, earning a muffled sleep noise and a tighter grip around his neck.

Kuroo had been smiling at them as they left, waving his hand goodbye as the pairs disappeared into the home, one by one, into their respective bedrooms. Sugawara glanced back at him briefly, his once wide and paranoid eyes softened into something rounded with innocence and, Kuroo thought, with confidence in their relationship as friends. Still, Kuroo waved, and then he was alone again.

And the sudden emptiness of the living room, the all-consuming silence as it filled his ears and deafened him, made him realize how truly cold he was. Made him hyper vigilant of the prison of grey still brewing in his chest, aching at the absence of color his friends had provided. Aching at the absence of noise as its disappearance seemed to draw all the warmth out of him, just like the water had. He did not allow himself to revisit that experience, so he focused on his hands and how they were buried in the softness of the rug, focusing on the stability of the action, reminding himself he could not drift when he was grounded. And he was grounded.

He was not going to float away from here. The inky ocean would not take him and the starless sky, reflecting back, would not take the rest of his warmth from him. His greed would not damage him in the same way that it used to, however he could feel a dark desire to return to his once invincible self blooming in his chest like a baby seedling breaking through the soil for the first time. His time was coming, he thought, but right now, he did not have the strength. It weighed upon him like lead. His fingers tightened so hard his knuckles turned white, his jaw clenched so hard the pressure made his vision go fuzzy, and he startled so hard he nearly bit his tongue at the gentle clink as a glass was placed on the coffee table.

His hazel-brown eyes widened, surprised, and empty of any urgency as he whipped his head up to find a small orange-haired boy frowning at him, a second glass of an amber liquid in his hands.

“It’s not beer, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Hinata said, softly, staring in the glass cup and swirling the liquid around. His voice was sad. “I couldn’t find the juice boxes you liked, so I bought the same brand but from the bottle. It’s not as fun, but I thought you’d like it more than a different brand.”

“You bought me apple juice?”

Hinata nodded, quickly, and offered a subtle shrug of his shoulders. “Figured it would be mostly harmless. I know you like it more than hot chocolate.”

Kuroo watched him, carefully, and timidly reached out to take the glass of apple juice on the table. The cup was chilled and the liquid sweet as he took a slow and deliberate first sip. This was the most unwavering attention Hinata had given him in days, Kuroo was uncertain how to respond. Uncertain how to interact with him. He was not sure whether he was supposed to apologize, or if Hinata expected an apology at all. Certainly, however, Kuroo did not have one prepared nor did he think it necessary. As mentioned before, he did feel shame in his harsh and angry words spewed like poison past his lips, he only felt sad in the presence of Hinata’s suffering. And after learning more about the orange-haired boy, suffering seemed to play a constant role in his never-ending life.

“You don’t have to talk to me, if you don’t want to,” Hinata said, hurriedly, as Kuroo finally lifted his gaze from the drink. “I understand why you got so upset with me. You don’t have to explain yourself anymore, I should have known better. It felt wrong to accuse you of those things. You never worried me in that way, I don’t know why I jumped to such a horrible conclusion.”

Kuroo did not reply.

Hinata grimaced.

“No, I’m sorry, that’s a lie,” Hinata scowled, his brow furrowed as he stared with heavy eyes towards the apple juice in his cup, holding the glass with both of his hands so tight it threatened to shatter under his grip. “I know why, I’m just afraid to admit it to you. I don’t want you to think of me as weak. You’re always talking about how weak you feel, but you’re not weak. I’ve never seen you in a moment of weakness, even when you were dying after Daishou attacked you.”

Kuroo tried to speak, but Hinata did not let him. His shining amber eyes lifted for the first time, cutting off his intake of breath, but Kuroo understood quickly that if Hinata did not say these things now, he would never hear him say them at all. He thought some of the glistening in his eyes were tears, but he could not tell for sure. Where had Hinata kept this pain? Where did he store it so those unbearable, unfaceable feelings did not bubble over as they did now?

“I’ve always been the weakest one. The others have always been so powerful. They’ve always been so brave and outstanding,” Hinata said, his eyes glazing over as his mind took him somewhere far away, lingering in a land of memories, a place in the past. He did not look troubled, he did not seem to suffer, he seemed to only reflect, to rewatch how his life played out and curiously gaze upon all the limits he set himself. 

“I was met with a lot of disgust when I was turned. A lot of the others of our family hated me. They scorned my existence. I was never supposed to be turned, I was never supposed to know about vampires. I was never meant to be a member of the family, and when I left—” Hinata’s mouth fell open, his eyes somewhere else. Ah, Kuroo thought, this was the suffering. The boy looked miserable as he remembered whatever it was his mind became stuck on, whatever dark thought emerged and reared its ugly head, painting the orange-haired boy an image of black regret and unresolved agony. The boy swallowed hard, setting the glass down on the coffee table and slipping into a seated position on the floor, across from Kuroo. His head was dipped low, shielding his face. “When I left, I was met with even more disdain. He really made sure I knew how worthless I truly was.”

The last sentence was not directed to Kuroo, spoken more to himself than anyone, and still the human boy wondered who this mysterious unnamed man was. Why did everyone spit when they mentioned him, face twisting sourly, as if just muttering his name upon their lips would be more sinful than speaking of him for longer than a moment?

“Sugawara believed in me so strongly, he helped me rebuild myself. This family believed in me, they provided me with the space to stop being the weakest one in the room. Our family dynamic shifted when we weren’t being held back by the others anymore. I didn’t have to be scorned. Everyone who left to create our new family wanted to embrace a lifestyle I wasn’t willing to give up,” Hinata continued. “But I guess that story doesn’t matter right now. Point is, Kuroo, moving out here, enrolling in Forks— this is where I was supposed to be the strongest. This is the furthest from a vampire I have ever been and the closest to humanity since the day my life was taken from me.”

Kuroo watched as Hinata finally found his lingering gaze, his amber eyes shining brightly. Fiercely. As he believed in his words so strongly, the truth may burst from within him. And it burned like a thousand nighttime stars in his eyes. The kind of blazing yellow Kuroo had forgotten existed. He watched with wonder.

“And everything went wrong.” He grit his teeth as he spoke now. “We kept slipping up. You kept getting hurt. And suddenly, it was like I had never broken away from the old us. Instead of the other vampires mocking me and being cruel, I was a victim to myself. I let my own self-judgements cloud my perception of you. I started to doubt everything I had worked towards, everything we all worked towards, and I kept remembering what it felt like to be turned into this monster. I kept remembering how it felt to keep losing control, to thirst after the very thing I wanted to protect, to destroy others in the same way I had been destroyed myself.”

There was nothing the dark-haired boy could say in this moment, the words kept spilling past Hinata’s mouth as if he could no longer help himself. The human boy could not tell if this was a helpful conversation for the vampire. He could not tell if the fierce light which burst from his pores was a result of his strength finding a way to shine through whatever darkness poisoned his mind, or if this was the last of himself burning brightly as a way to let the world know he was approaching his end. Even if he found the appropriate words to bask in this yellow as it consumed whatever else was left of Hinata, there was not space for him to say them. So he remained silent, unmoving, as he waited to see what else would come next.

“Sugawara always told me when a human discovered the truth about vampires, the madness drove them to death. Or, even worse, the vampires eliminated the threat and there was no one else to scream wolf into the night. He told me, in his experience, when humans were bitten, the hell of having their world flipped upside down was diminished as their memory was leached away as the venom consumed the rest of their humanity and turned them into a violent monster. But I never forgot what it was like to be human.” Hinata’s yellow faltered. 

“I remember being turned so vividly. The pain I experienced. The thrashing I had done. And I remember being wild when I had awoken. Has anyone told you about what it’s like being reborn, Kuroo? The process of a human changing into a vampire? It’s a hell no one on this planet should ever experience. So quickly the others had forgotten it’s promise of agony, but I never forgot. I was conscious through the whole transition, hanging onto every moment as I felt myself slipping deeper and deeper into the ravenous monster that I was destined to become. And when we found you in that alleyway, broken and bleeding, in so much pain, I saw myself in you.”

Hinata held his eyes now.

“I saw the same pain, the same tortured gaze I once wore as my own as you tried to piece together what kind of nightmare you had stumbled into. None of the others would have been able to piece it together, but I saw it instantly. Every interaction we had after that, every moment I spent with you I wanted to pull that pain out of your eyes, I wanted to show you a world where, yes, monsters existed, but you didn’t have to suffer. But you kept suffering, you kept staring up at the sky, and you kept waiting around for something that would never come,” he said. “So when Daishou pulled you out of that lake…”

His eyes glazed over once again. The yellow burning out, fading fast, rapidly, as fast as the silence had come. And the room held them both in its icy grip as the sudden chill of all the warmth being pulled out of the room started to bloom in both of their chests like a jarring realization that no matter how hard either of them tried to hang onto the fiery yellow, the yellow even the stars envied in its presence, there was only cold grey matter buried in the prisons of their chests. Where Kuroo held a heart, Hinata held the memory of one. While they both beat at the same time, and warmth touched their cheeks by the blood coursing through their bodies, it was only Kuroo’s which was authentic, produced by himself, and Hinata’s was a sick mockery of life. And still, they were the same. These broken creatures, searching for something neither of them would ever hold onto again. They were exactly the same.

“I thought you had achieved the very thing I was unable to,” Hinata admitted, his voice so soft. “It scares me how close you were. How close you were to killing yourself. And how— for just a little while— I envied how close you came.”

The words fell heavy upon Kuroo and he knew that his silence would no longer sit patiently in his throat.

“I never thought you were weak, Hinata,” Kuroo said, his voice was hard, however unsteady his words felt as they fell past his lips, urgently trying to heal the void between them as it split uncomfortably between them. “I always thought you were strong.”

Hinata’s face seemed thin, exhaustion suddenly visible in the softness of his cheeks, along the lines by his eyes where the corners crinkled when he grinned. He was not grinning now. “No, Kuroo, you are wrong. You have always been wrong about us as vampires. I am weak. I have never been strong, but I understand you better than before. You have never been like me. Even in those moments where death had come so close to licking your neck and stealing your breath straight past your lips. Even when you existed somewhere in the in-between. Between monster and man. When you struggled to find your place among us, you were never like me. I bent and I broke.”

Kuroo could feel heat building behind his eyes as he stared at the orange-haired boy. Suddenly, Kuroo became very aware of how human he truly appeared, the way his form was still small and uncertain, the way the light burst from him even when he was not trying, the way his movements were not as practiced and pointed as the others. And in his eyes, there was not a coldness you would find after staring into them for a long time. Kuroo discovered how easy it was to uncover the wasteland of lifelessness inside the darkest parts of their eyes and how, as he gazed into Hinata’s, he found a different kind of wasteland. A wasteland which has not yet been ravaged by the climate, by the bitter coldness, by the drying heat, by the promise of a forever no one asked for. But in Hinata’s eyes— those shining and shimmering amber lights— Kuroo saw the remnants of humanity. A warmth which could not be replicated. A yellow so golden the stars envied him.

And, soon, Kuroo understood something. When he floated on the inky black ocean, its waters cool against his glass skin, and when he looked up to the star-filled sky and watched as the stars shone for him— the yellow they produced was made up of the same fire Hinata held within himself. Hinata was the yellow he craved. The yellow he would have died for. Those moments when humanity made sense to him. Those moments when they were warm.

But Kuroo no longer sought the same yellow.

He no longer ached for warm moments.

“But you did not bend. And you did not break. Because you did not, I don’t think you ever will,” Hinata continued, softly. Sincerely. His next words had Kuroo’s breath stuck in his throat once again. “I was the boy who died. But you… you, Kuroo— you should have died and did not. You are stronger because of that alone.”

“But I was the victim,” Kuroo tried, finding a weak substitute of his voice as it hid itself somewhere in his chest. “I was helpless before Daishou. He was the one who didn’t kill me, I played no role. I was useless. Weak.”

Hinata hummed, quietly, and a faint smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Do you truly believe the decision to take your life was Daishou’s alone?”

Kuroo did not know what to say. Of course, it was. Daishou was the predator and he was the prey. He was going to die. He was certain of his demise, his sharp and short end. Death was upon him that night— right? But he didn’t. Why didn’t he?

“Sugawara was right about you,” Hinata said. “And I was very wrong.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Hinata,” Kuroo tried, desperate to understand these hidden meanings tucked behind these mysterious words.

“You’re not like other humans,” Hinata said, more firmly. Seriously. “He came to you, didn’t he? In the night? Alone?”

Kuroo did not know how to reply, unsure of the context of the situation. He remembered the way he saw the sanity slipping from Sugawara’s poised and perfect form, the way the kindness seemed to slip further and further away from him the more he begged Kuroo for the truth. The way he actively used his allure against him, using some unknown, supernatural force to push him into a land of nightmares to pull the memories out of him as if he did not care about the consequences of doing so.

And he remembered the surge of power. And suddenly, Kuroo had taken something away from Sugawara. He lied to the ashy-haired boy. Easily. Without regret.

It was not shame he felt build in his chest as he met Hinata’s gaze, his own unwavering and strong before him. Hinata’s smile seemed to sadden.

“Ah, that’s what I suspected,” Hinata replied, nodding knowingly. “What human would Suga permit to see him in that state? He doesn’t even let us see him like that. He was in a lot of pain wasn’t he?”

Hinata’s eyes seemed to soften, his sad smile worsening as an unspoken misery grew between them. Kuroo did not answer, he was not going to disclose whatever it was Sugawara was experiencing. He remembered what he learned while sharing lunch with Daishou and Tsukishima. If Sugawara wanted to reveal a piece of himself, it would happen on his own terms. Kuroo was not willing to break that simple truth.

“Okay, you don’t have to say anything. I don’t blame you,” Hinata nodded, reaching for his glass of juice again, using it more as a crutch to reassure himself in some way. Perhaps to remind himself to stay in the moment. To not linger on those thoughts which seemed to weigh heavy upon him. “He doesn’t talk to us about those kinds of things anymore. He doesn’t let us see him like that. But he showed you how much pain he was in, didn’t he?” A small scoff. “And yet, you truly think you are weak?”

He did not quite understand what he meant and still he lowered his gaze, as the shame finally found itself buried in the depths of his chest. Hinata did the same thing, letting the silence stretch between them, as words once again fell away from the dark-haired boy. He found them rising and falling in his chest, like his breath, and with every inhale they seemed to slip farther and farther into his body.

He was troubled by Hinata’s words. It was a glimpse into the dark world the vampires wandered. Every glimpse he received, whether in the depths of their eyes, or laced between mysterious statements, were bound to an unnamed evil. A kind of darkness so dark there was no end, no beginning, just a pause in a temporary existence you could not escape from. And for some reason, the idea of existing within this perpetual midnight did not scare him.

Hinata sipped his drink, slowly, then he laughed, but it was bitter. “All that and I can’t even taste this damn drink.”

“What was your sister’s name again?” Kuroo said, abruptly, taking his own glass, bringing it to his lips and staring into the amber liquid. He was not sure where the question came from, but for some reason, it felt right to ask in this moment.

“Natsu,” he answered, easily, still staring sadly into his drink. Then, he glanced up at Kuroo and for the first time in a while, his eyes shone brightly again. The corner of his mouth twitched up as he began to catch onto what the dark-haired boy was playing at.

“How old was she before you turned?” Kuroo continued.

“She was about thirteen,” Hinata answered cooly, as if it was simple. As if it was easy. “Her hair was like mine. We had the same eyes, too. We spent a lot of time together growing up.”

“Where did you grow up?”

“California. It was the late sixties, early seventies,” Hinata smiled into his cup, eyes far away but instead of the wasteland he was on a beach. Instead of the darkness, he was basking in the sun. “Surprisingly, I didn’t love the ocean. I liked all the shops nearby though. I used to walk them for hours. Sometimes I would take Natsu for ice cream. Her favorite flavor was chocolate.”

Kuroo watched Hinata fondly. This is the Hinata he knew. The Hinata he thought was strong. The Hinata who loved humanity with his whole entire being that he would sacrifice everything to spend another moment alongside humans. Kuroo grinned. He was not going to stop Hinata now. He was the stars. An entire galaxy of them. And Kuroo wanted to admire their shimmering yellow for the rest of his short life.

“My favorite flavor was strawberry. I remember the silly little hats the workers would wear. They were bright red and made of this cheap paper. Once I stole one for Natsu. She was so excited.”

“The others can’t remember these things, Hinata,” Kuroo said, warmly. “It’s what makes you so special. It’s what connected me to you since the beginning. You’re not weak because you remember. I think remembering makes you stronger.”

Hinata stared at Kuroo for a long time, his amber eyes glowing with light and warmth and a fondness only Hinata could hold with such intensity. Kuroo wanted to look away or to hide the flush as it tickled the tops of his cheeks, but at the same time, he wanted to hold Hinata in this moment for a while longer. A thought filtered into Kuroo’s mind and before he could weigh the gravity of his words, he said them anyway, and found to regret them immediately. He had scorned the moment they shared and it was completely accidental. 

“Where is Natsu now?”

“She’s dead.” Hinata’s voice hardened, but the light in his eyes did not die immediately. “My whole family is dead. Vampires killed them.”

Kuroo held his breath, stunned. Shocked into silence.

Hinata smiled. It was painful to look at.

“I died the very next day,” Hinata said, laughter touching his voice. “Isn’t that pathetic? I should’ve stayed dead, but alas, I was not given the chance. I think Kageyama thought he was saving me by turning me. I think he thought I would have wanted to live. I did want to live, but not like this. I never wanted this.”

His expression soured.

“Who is Kageyama, Hinata?”

Hinata glanced at Kuroo before his gaze faded somewhere else, somewhere faraway and distant from the room they sat in now. There was pain in his eyes. A pain Kuroo recognized but could not label what emotions were held behind their glassy appearance. A pain so deep, a pain so unbearable, conceptualizing its existence would suck the very life right out of your soul. And Kuroo felt it beginning to drain him, felt it in his arms, in the pit of his stomach, in the pounding of his chest. He has seen pain like this before but only in the eyes of Sugawara. The kind of pain which had been radically accepted and, yet, there is no soothing of its everlasting agony. The promise of permanent misery. Hinata held onto this pain because there was nowhere else for it to go.

“He is an extremely powerful vampire. And he was my friend.” His voice was soft and faint. Like it pained him to reflect in this way. “He was my best friend.”

Hinata’s eyes slid back over to Kuroo’s. Kuroo gasped, fingers instinctively tightening around the glass as the sensation of raw terror started to grow within his chest. His heart lurched and he struggled to regulate his breathing as his stomach began to twist with uncertainty. It was the kind of fear only prey would experience in the presence of its predator. And Kuroo happened to be sitting across from the apex of its kind.

“But he betrayed me. He betrayed all of us.” Hinata’s eyes flashed with some kind of emotion. “If I see him again, he will die by my hand. I will make sure of that.”

Hinata downed the rest of his drink, grimacing as if it pained him to swallow. His glare softened and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“That’s all I will say to you about Kageyama. You don’t need to know anything else about him.”

***

The nighttime air was cold, but Kuroo did not mind it. The wind was gentle as it brushed his hair along his forehead, the longer pieces tickling his cheeks. His cheeks were flushed as his head tilted upwards, his nose a cherry red, but the rest of his body was prepared this time. A plush blanket over his shoulders, his feet covered in thick socks, and his sweater was warm and appropriate for the weather. He found himself in this familiar position, leaning against the balcony which overlooked the woods, the wide and wild forest as it swallowed the house in its greatness. His eyes were glassy, pink-rimmed, but not empty. He stared not out towards the trees but up towards the sky. His face was worn, weary, and grey, but he was not desperate for yellow any longer.

The cold was biting, cutting through his clothes easily, but as he wrapped his arms around himself, he found it to be bearable. It was enough to keep his core safe from the weather, enough to keep his soul from bearing the finality of frost and damaging it forever. He was warm. Warm enough to linger in the winter night, leaning on the balcony. 

His night with Hinata ended with the pair of boys sipping their juice and talking about warm things. Talking about the beach and their mothers. Talking about their homes and their first cars. Talking about their first kisses and their first childhood crushes. The content was similar, filled with butterflies in their stomachs and gentle laughter as they reflected, the differences were in their lifetimes. Kuroo’s experience was not too long ago while Hinata’s was many years ago and still he clung to those human thoughts because they were all he had left. The night ended with the boys beside one another, Hinata’s head of fluffy orange hair soft against Kuroo’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he had said, faintly into the room, before he rose to his feet and left Kuroo to wander the house alone again. Kuroo wished he knew for what exactly he was being thanked. There were many reasons he knew and many other reasons he did not.

That’s how he found himself outside, his arms protectively wrapped around himself, the cold air singeing his lungs, listening to the forest sounds. But instead of the great big void opening itself up in front of him, he found the rest of the universe.

The sky was littered with a thousand stars. Thousands upon thousands in the dark winter night, shining for him, shining for the rest of the world. The once never-ending blackness, the kind which expanded and swallowed him easily in its chasm of nothingness, was dotted with shimmering balls of light. Some far above him presents as teeny specks of wonder while others were piled on one another, bold and beautiful. Some seemed so close to him that he thought he could reach out and snatch it straight from the sky and hold its power in his hands. To press the yellow deep into his empty chest and paint himself some other color than black— but he was no longer black. He was grey.

But he did not crave the yellow as he once did before.

He was no longer greedy.

He had all the yellow he needed, surrounding him, like an open flame in a forest fire. Overwhelming and engulfing and dangerous and wild. There was no way to fill his hollowed chest with its light because the yellow was never his to take. He had never been yellow, only envious of its fire. He had all the fire he needed locked away deep in the darkest parts of his chest and it would burn in those moments most unexpected.

He was not weak.

He was rebuilt.

And as he gazed upon the stars, he smiled to himself, knowing the stars have forgiven him because why else would they shine for him in this way? The scene was far too ethereal for the stars to remain angry at him, to mask themselves and cloak themselves in shadows, to taunt him and to tease him. To laugh bitterly in his face and conceal themselves for the rest of Kuroo’s short life. The stars returned to him and he admired them, safely, from a long away distance, because their yellow was not meant for him.

And that was not a bad thing. It was a simple truth.

When he floated between the stars in the sky and on the inky black ocean, the stars were not his for the taking. What was left for him, however, he was unsure of. What was at the bottom of the ocean? That, he did not know yet. But he, unfortunately, would come to learn of the mysteries in the depths of the ocean and he would discover them to be lethal and monstrous.

“What are you always searching for up there?”

Kuroo did not have to turn around to know who approached him. Soft feet padded beside him and with a soft sign, the green-haired vampire leaned casually against the balcony beside the human boy. He turned his yellow eyes towards the sky as well and for a moment, Kuroo thought to resist the urge to watch him looking, to compare his eyes to the stars, to wonder if they were of the same cut. He allowed himself the pleasure, sneaking a peek, the corners of his mouth curling up when Daishou’s eyes sparkled with wonder and amazement before the vastness of the star-sprinkled sky above them.

The same eyes which once turned black and evil before him. The same eyes which envisioned his death. The same eyes he wanted to gaze into for a little bit longer.

“I’m not looking for anything,” Kuroo replied, quietly, returning his attention to the nighttime sky. “Not anymore, I don’t think.”

There was a silence, but it was comfortable. The pair stood close to one another, if one were to lean towards the other they would brush shoulders. Their breathing was muffled by the greatness of the outdoors, the snow catching the sound and holding in its icy grasp, but that was okay. This was enough for Kuroo.

He thought, for a moment, that he had finally found peace.

How fleeting it was.

He smiled, somberly.

“I don’t look at the sky enough,” Daishou said, his voice low in his throat. “It’s the only thing that never changes. This is the same sky I looked at ten years ago. Fifty years ago. When I was a human, I stared up at the same exact stars. I wish I could remember what I thought of them then.”

Kuroo nodded. What a wonder this world truly was.

“The sky is so pretty,” Kuroo said, clutching his blanket tighter around his shoulders. He could feel Daishou’s eyes on him again. Once, his gaze made fear leak from his bones and coat his entire body in a thick layer of unbreakable ice, meant to paralyze and cripple him. He couldn’t remember when it had melted. “I used to think all my answers were hidden up there. I know they’re not now.”

“What answers were you looking for?” the vampire asked, a whisper from the darkness.

Kuroo shrugged. “Why did Bokuto break my thumb the first semester of my freshman year with a textbook? What was Terushima thinking when he first told me he loved me after only hooking up for two weekends? Why did Akaashi pick Bo?”

Daishou smirked, joy touching his lips as he released a quiet laugh, breathy and silent in the great big open space of the outdoors. Kuroo wondered if he laughed at the simpleness of his thoughts, at how unbearably human he was despite everything that’s happened, at how fragile his mind could be.

But Daishou knew better than to underestimate Kuroo Tetsurou. The dark-haired boy stood as an enigma before him, once broken and bloodied, begging for his short life to last a little bit longer. Weeping like a fearful child, his face innocent and human— untouched by the darkness of never-ending life. And Daishou touched him, poisoned him, turned his skin black with his cruel touch of death. A touch was a promise, his tongue flickering over the bloody mess he had made, and the monster twisted in his gut as he admired the boy beside him. Because despite all of those nasty and terrible things, Kuroo stood tall, his shoulders hung heavier, weighed by the gravity of this new world he lived in, and he carried it anyway. He was still broken and sad, but today he looked different. As he gazed up at the stars, he seemed like an entity beyond their world of man and monster. Kuroo was the in-between— and there was no other way to describe him. Did he have to belong to one or the other?

“Why did Hinata die when he barely had a chance to live?” Kuroo went on, voice still soft. “Why did you all move to Forks University? Why was my scent so unbearable to you?”

Daishou shifted beside him, unsettled by the statement. Daishou kept his eyes steady on Kuroo, trying to watch to see if the boy flinched away from him, waiting for him to duck out of the way and run screaming into the night. But he did not. Kuroo did not even glance his way. How could he hold himself in this way? Kuroo continued.

“Why did you end up leaving? Why was I so worried about you while you were gone?” Kuroo’s voice became fainter and fainter as he spoke. Soon, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t I die? Why didn’t you just kill me?”

A moment passed and Daishou released the shaky breath he was holding, and Kuroo felt a shiver run down his spine. Daishou was nervous and something about this creature of darkness, unsteady and uncertain, made him want to press. A resurgence of invisible power, his shield of invincibility— he did not want to bear it now. He wanted to exist similarly beside the vampire, the ageless creature of his nightmares, and explore the pieces of him which made his poise and perfection falter.

Kuroo lowered his gaze and looked at Daishou, studying the way the angles of his cheekbones and his jaw held onto the shadows of the night while the moon and the millions of stars offered enough illumination to cast a white glow across the planes of his pale face. Daishou’s yellow eyes glowed with the rest of the galaxy above them, shining, thoughtful, as he gazed back towards Kuroo. He liked the flutter of his dark eyelashes as he tried to keep his eyes from flicking down to Kuroo’s mouth. He looked soft. He seemed gentle. Kuroo wondered why he was so scared of him, so scared of a boy so small and pretty, whose hard lines of his face dared him to reach out and touch him. Whose hair was rustled by the cool breeze, casting across his eyes in a way which dared him to run his fingers through.

He reminded himself, quickly. He looked so sad as he gazed upon Daishou’s face, no longer interested in the nighttime sky.

“You didn’t have to get me alone, Daishou. That night, when you attacked me, you didn’t have to take me away from the bar,” he said, sadly, his hazel-brown eyes heavy with reflection. “Your whole family was out that night. Why did you have to hold my hand and take me away from my friends?”

Daishou’s expression was unreadable, but the light in his eyes did not flicker away. If anything, it stayed true and burned with a fierce amusement. As if the pain which raked Kuroo’s throat and made his words waver with an unprocessed misery made him laugh. The thought was unbearable and the grayness which held Kuroo’s chest prisoner started to ache with unresolved sadness.

Kuroo did not feel guilt, nor shame. He was not afraid. He was sad.

“Do you blame me now?” Daishou murmured, a grin on his lips. He could not look at Kuroo, pulling his gaze away and staring out into the trees. Kuroo wondered if he was searching for yellow eyes as well and he wondered if he would find them to be blue instead. “Are you finally coming to your senses, Kuroo?”

“I don’t blame you, Daishou,” Kuroo replied. “It is not about blaming you. I just want to know why.”

Something snapped within Daishou, something pulled taut for a long time and finally giving up under the pressure. The vampire was rigid, hard beside the human boy, his shoulders tense and his expression angry as his jaw clenched.

“You must be truly dense,” Daishou hissed, pressing his hands into the wooden frame of the balcony, squeezing it tightly in his grasp. “I took your whole life away from you, and you just want to know why? You should be staying up all night with your friends right now, studying, drinking, laughing with them.”

Kuroo frowned, sadly.

“But you’re with a bunch of monsters, wasting what’s left of your humanity, trying to understand the complexities of immortality as if we haven’t been doing that since the day we woke up reborn.” His voice was a growl, his annoyance coming from deep within him as if these thoughts were not touching his mind for the first time. He seemed troubled, bothered by Kuroo’s nonchalance.

Kuroo thought he may be afraid.

“I don’t want to understand the complexities of your immortality,” Kuroo admitted, his frown deepening. “I want to understand you.”

Daishou flinched when Kuroo’s hand lifted from the balcony, reaching out as if it was in slow motion, to touch his cheek with his fingertips. His skin was cold and Kuroo wanted nothing more than to keep him warm. Daishou’s jaw clenched and he released a soft hiss as he turned his head away from the human boy. He was scowling, purposefully keeping his eyes averted. Like he was in pain. 

“Does my scent still overwhelm you?” He asked, softly, holding his hand up, staring at his hand in the moonlight. Wondering if his hand was more useful as a weapon in a moment like this than the tender tool he meant to use. His shoulders drooped, heavy before Daishou. “Why can you touch me, but I cannot touch you?”

Kuroo sighed, sadly, and began to lower his hand away from the boy, defeated. He was going to return his attention to the sky, to the stars, to his mindless musing about the universe, but Daishou had other intentions. He grabbed onto the boy’s fingers, surprising Kuroo, earning a tiny gasp at the shock of the coldness of his hand, but he did not pull away. Daishou’s eyes were pinned to the boy’s hand, using his fingers to run along the pad of his palm, pushing back his sweater, exposing the scar along his hand, the scarring of his forearm. Kuroo stayed silent. Kuroo stayed still. He bit his lip to suppress his shiver as he exhaled slowly and slightly unsteady.

He suddenly felt very exposed before the vampire, his blanket slipping from his shoulders as he stood frozen before him, letting the boy explore his injured hand with his cold fingers. With his curious eyes. Heat rose in his cheeks and burned his ears. He could not tell if the shuddering came from the abrupt chill of the winter night or the threat of flashing teeth pressing violently against his wrist until all he saw was crimson. But he could not ignore the way his breath caught in his throat and his heart jumped at every touch the vampire made against his wrist. It felt like electricity, leaving a trail of stinging flesh in its wake. He traced his raised scar along his palm where the glass had torn through his flesh, along his wrist where Daishou’s own hand had shattered the bone there— still, when he flexed it gently pain would return in a dull way. And along his forearm, he placed his fingers against the exact same spots his hands had once bruised. Had broken.

“When you touch me, I feel out of control,” he whispered. It was only them in the darkness. “You’re unpredictable. I can never guess what you will do next.”

He lifted Kuroo’s hand to his mouth, a similar scene to that long ago night. In a moment, Kuroo was transported back, seeing his breath before him cloud like smoke from his mouth. Violent and vicious eyes stared at him, hungrily, lethal desire causing his heart to race in his chest. Crimson dripped from his pale mouth, black veins crossed pale skin, gnashing white teeth glimmered at him to both pull him in and push him away. The way his tongue snaked out to lick his bloodied wrist, tears pouring down his cheeks as he wept and begged to be released. Kuroo’s stomach twisted with fear, raw and innate, forcing him into his lowly position as a victim— as prey.

But he was not prey at this moment.

He was the exact opposite.

The way Daishou’s eyes held his own, held his wrist, held all of him— Kuroo was not Daishou’s prey. He stared at him in wonder, in admiration. He wanted nothing more than to hold Kuroo’s attention and be held by his. To treasure him. To worship him. He was an enigma, a mystery, and he was the only creature in this realm to challenge his understanding of the world. And if staring at him for a little bit longer meant he could stay this close, could come a fraction closer to unraveling his thoughts to bare his truth, he would stare for the rest of his long, never-ending life.

“But when I touch you, I can control myself a little bit better,” he said, breath hot against his wrist. “Your scent is so overwhelming, Kuroo. At all times, I am thinking about it. At all times, I am thinking about you.”

The vampire lifted Kuroo’s wrist to his mouth and pressed his lips along the scar on his palm. It was soft. Gentle. The most gentle Daishou has ever been with him. As if touching him would leave another bruise. As if holding too tightly to his hand would shatter his bones. As if pressing too hard, he would suddenly shift into a monster made up of nightmares and darkness. As if he would lose control.

“My thoughts belong to you,” he said, through gritted teeth, harder this time. “It’s only been you.”

Kuroo barely noticed the way Daishou trembled before him. He thought he imagined it at first, but soon came to realize the boy before him was tense with fear, with uncertainty. Daishou’s lower lip quivered and Kuroo swiftly slid his hand out of Daishou’s fingers, flush against his cheek, pressing his whole palm against the soft of his skin. Daishou froze, holding his breath, and for a moment, Kuroo thought he would withdraw completely again. He would yank his face away at the abruptness of his touch, at the overwhelming rush of his scent against his face. But he did not. He leaned into the touch, ever so slightly, and closed his eyes.

A risk.

“Is this too much?” Kuroo was breathless as he caressed his thumb across his cheek.

Daishou nodded, but did not open his eyes. His face twisted with pain, if only slightly, ever so slightly, if Kuroo had blinked he would have missed it. Just how intoxicating was his scent for this poor boy? How in control could he really be?

“I almost killed you.”

Kuroo sighed, softly. “You almost killed me,” he agreed.

“You should hate me,” Daishou said. Kuroo stepped closer to him, feeling the heat emitting off of his slender form. The plush blanket on Kuroo’s shoulders fell away completely, touching the ground. Daishou’s eyes stayed closed, although he winced when Kuroo moved. “I hurt you. I can’t control myself completely around you.”

“So we can stay like this for a little while,” Kuroo tried, pressing his hand ever so slightly harder against his cheek. His other hand floated beside him for a moment, thoughtful, before he lightly touched it against his other cheek, holding his face in his hands, tilting head to look up at him.

Daishou did not seem miserable, his breathing beginning to come out in shallow ragged breaths. It was likely his mind was racing with a thousand thoughts meant to suppress whatever lethal desires were starting to churn in his gut, but Kuroo, for some reason, was not afraid. Kuroo held steady, watching him in wonder, patiently waiting for his eyes to open. When they did, he expected for half a second to peer into blackholes of evil. But he didn’t. Daishou watched him with hazy eyes, intoxicated, drunk on Kuroo’s closeness, on his scent, on the feeling of his hot breath close to his mouth. Daishou blinked slowly, fear somewhere the darkest parts of his eyes, but the rest of his expression was unreadable.

“It’s my fault. I hurt you. I tried to kill you.” Daishou placed his hand over Kuroo’s, the other reaching desperately to cling to his jacket to hold him closer. Like if he suddenly let go, Kuroo might actually turn away and flee. “Hate me. You’re supposed to hate me.”

“Okay,” Kuroo said, urgently. “I hate you. Is this what you wanted? I hate you.”

Daishou’s fingers tightened further on his jacket. Kuroo felt a pull towards him, dipping his head lower to meet the other boy’s. Daishou’s hand was soft against his, his heart pounding in his chest, but not because he was afraid. Kuroo's breath was against Daishou’s face, his yellow eyes soaking up his appearance. His pink cheeks in the cold air, his flush nose, the curve of his mouth as his lips parted because breathing only seemed to get harder the closer they got.

A risk.

Daishou’s hand fell from Kuroo’s jacket and laid gently upon his chest. He could feel his heart racing in the human boy’s chest. Something wicked flashed across Daishou’s eyes, something inherently cruel and nasty, but it was gone before Kuroo would parse what it meant in this moment. He only saw Daishou. He only touched Daishou.

“Are you going to hurt me again?”

Daishou seemed sad, wincing. He meant to move his face away, but Kuroo’s hands did not let him flee. There would be no fleeing this time. Kuroo brushed the hair that fell across his forehead with his fingertips. His eyes left Daishou’s face, just to watch his hair fall into place, softly, lightly. He was shining when he looked back. Yellow eyes, shining, glimmering, like stars in the nighttime sky.

“I can’t promise you that I won’t,” Daishou said, faintly. Breath was hard for him as well. His touch against his chest was tender and warm.

Kuroo grinned at the underlying threat, the final attempt to remind Kuroo of his fragility, his weak sense of self, his breakable human form. But Daishou knew better. Kuroo was unwavering in this moment, unbreakable in the next, and for every moment after, he was and will be the strongest he had ever met. Something about him made him take pause, always, he would take pause when looking up into the dark-haired boy’s pretty hazel-brown eyes. He was not completely man and he was not completely monster. Daishou did not know what he was. And he was afraid of him, perhaps more than Kuroo was of him.

“Okay.”

If Hinata was all the stars in the universe, the most yellow of them all, then what was Daishou?

Kuroo moved first.

Of course, Kuroo would move first.

He was invincible tonight, today, tomorrow, forever. Until he died, he was invincible.

He was absolutely untouchable.

It was not the faintest of movements, it was not subtle, Kuroo moved with intention, because he did not expect Daishou to withdraw. He would not let him. And Daishou moved as well. 

Kuroo kissed Daishou. At first, it was gentle and timid. A whirlwind of insecurity struck Kuroo all at once as their lips found each other, warm against the freezing chill of the winter night. How many lips has this vampire kissed in his many years of existence, how many of them were other vampires, and how many of them had been human? Was this a first for him? And what if Kuroo was the least experienced of them all? He was only human.

But soon his mind melted as Daishou kissed him back and all he could tolerate was the feeling of Daishou’s mouth against his, warm and sweet, and so, so gentle as he kissed him. And Kuroo’s confidence swelled, cupping his face in his hands, their soft and tender kisses shifted to purposeful and curious. He noticed Daishou’s hesitancy, his shyness as he leaned into the tiny open-mouthed kisses, sliding one hand around his neck so slowly Kuroo thought he was going to die by the time Daishou’s hands had found the ends of his hair to play with, guiding him down lower to him so he did not have to strain.

“I don’t understand you,” Daishou muttered when he finally withdrew, enough to pant alongside the dark-haired boy as the human greedily pressed another kiss to the corner of his open mouth. “You are not the boy I saw in the bar that very first night.”

Kuroo grinned, but he was not sure why, and found his hands winding around Daishou’s waist to pull him ever closer, so that they were touching, so that he could feel not a brush of coldness against his body and it was only Daishou. It should only be Daishou. Daishou went along with his touches, his shoulders still tense and his jaw only slightly clenched as another wave of the boy’s scent made him drowsy and weak. But he did not have another moment to worry if the beast was going to claw its way out of him.

Kuroo did not fear his black eyes. Not now. Not any longer.

If he did not fear Daishou, what else was there?

What should he fear?

Kuroo kissed him again, softly, and Daishou sighed against his mouth.

What, indeed, was there left to hurt him?

Tonight was a long night, but the nights were only going to get longer.

Why were the nights so long and where had the day gone?

How many nights did he have left?

Too few.


	19. last bit of light left

Kissing a vampire is like kissing any other person, Kuroo thought.

Soft lips and desperate touches, curious and eager to explore a new person for the first time. It’s a little awkward in the beginning, a little slow to build up, but sooner or later, the rhythm is found. The curiosity is welcomed. The warmth is wanted. And Kuroo found himself panting into the other boy’s mouth, breathing in his scent, his taste, holding onto his every touch as he knew how fleeting this moment could be under the worst circumstances.

And, for half a second, he found his lower lip held between Daishou’s teeth. The same kind of teeth which took the life of another person once not too long ago, the same kind of teeth which nearly took his own life, and now they nibbled nervously against his mouth as if the vampire, too, was testing walking along this line of monster and man. And Kuroo could not discern if the shiver which coursed through his body was out of fear or in anticipation.

It made Kuroo laugh, startling the other boy, who withdrew enough to stare up into his eyes again. Daishou looked so pretty in the moonlight, his cheeks flush, mouth parted as he breathed, a carnal glint in his shining yellow eyes as they hazily searched Kuroo’s face for some kind of warning sign as to why the boy was now giggling before him. Daishou started to scowl as his fingers pressed roughly against the sides on Kuroo’s neck, eager to return his attention to Kuroo’s mouth and breath and scent and everything and everything and everything.

Kuroo grinned, his own face flushed and warm as he pressed his cheek against the top of Daishou’s head earning a tiny huff of annoyance from the vampire. Kuroo wound his arms tighter around him, but not in a yearning way, in a gentle way. He hugged him, holding him close to his body, listening to the sound of his heart pounding against his chest, the reassuring sound of life. Daishou’s immediate reaction to grumble into his chest slipped away and he soon curled his arms around the human boy, holding him securely against him.

“What the fuck are we doing?” Kuroo hummed, quietly, unwilling to disturb the sound of the silence, and the sound of Daishou’s breathing, and the sound of their hearts beating in unison. Kuroo kissed the top of his head, brushing his lips against his hair almost feather-like.

Daishou tried to wiggle out of his arms to look up at the dark-haired boy, but stopped when Kuroo’s grip did not falter at all. Instead, he comfortably pressed his ear against his shoulder, tucking his face into the warm space near his neck, breathing him in deeply so that his scent would never leave him again. It burned in his chest, caused the beast within him to churn, aching for more. But Daishou held strong against its will, tightening his grip around Kuroo. The pair had never been closer. He didn’t want to stop being this close.

“Do you regret this?” he asked, a hint of fear creeping into his voice, angling his face so that his words were muffled.

“No, not at all.” Kuroo reassured, quickly. Kuroo laughed again, rumbling low in his throat. He noticed the vampire hold him tighter as he chuckled and the feeling made warmth spread throughout his entire body. He ran his fingers through his hair slowly, just to remind him he was okay. “I just don’t think I ever imagined this.”

It was Daishou’s turn to chuckle.

“You never imagined yourself kissing an undying boy over a hundred years older than you?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Kuroo trailed off, giggling, jokingly leaning away from him. His mouth was twisted into a silly smirk. “How many humans have you kissed in all of those years?”

Daishou snorted, squeezing his sides slightly, causing the dark-haired boy to squeak and lean away even more. Daishou held onto his arms though, not letting him get too far out of his reach. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know, pretty boy?” Daishou laughed, smiling as he watched Kuroo’s eyes crinkle shut as he giggled. 

When the laughter died down and Kuroo wandered back into his space, fingers curiously touching his waist, touching his back, the strength beneath his shirt. Daishou did the same but soon found his hand placed softly against Kuroo’s cheek, admiring him once again. His head tilted to the side and his eyes took on a curious gaze. Suddenly, Kuroo felt vulnerable beneath his stare, like Daishou was trying to see through him. The human boy had gone still as Daishou’s thumb traced the edges of his mouth. His once happy smirk has fallen away and his breath caught in his throat as Daishou pressed his thumb against his lower lip. A dark glint twinkled in Daishou’s eyes. Something greedy and desperate and it made Kuroo’s stomach flip with anticipation.

“You are really pretty,” Daishou mumbled. “Pretty since the first day. Pretty when we were in the alleyway. Pretty now.”

Kuroo’s cheeks burned and every instinct of his wanted him to pull away, but he stayed in Daishou’s arms. He was looking at him as if he could never look at anything else. A shudder touched his shoulders and Daishou grinned, his eyes wicked and knowing, and before he knew it, the vampire was pulling him back down to his level. He did not kiss him though, he just breathed him in, mouths inches apart. He chuckled, low, rumbling in his throat, Kuroo could have thought it was a growl. His vision went all fuzzy and his eyelids hung heavy over his eyes.

He wanted Daishou to stop with his games and just kiss him. He huffed, trying to connect their mouths again, but Daishou cruelly moved away just in time.

“Patience, human boy,” Daishou cooed, gently, but there was a layer of uncertainty hanging over his words. A touch of caution, perhaps a touch of fear. Daishou’s jaw clenched as he waited, his eyes shut as his fingers stilled on Kuroo’s face. “Just give me a second, okay?”

Dread found Kuroo, a twisting sensation of fear began to climb into his bones as he stilled, but he did not feel it in the same way he would have a while ago. He only nodded, stood unmoving, and he waited for Daishou’s breathing to steady. For his pulse to calm. For whatever scowl which touched his pretty mouth to slip into any other shape. He did not know what it took to fight the monster inside, he did not know the limits of Daishou’s own strength, but he was not afraid. Still, he found Daishou’s touch soft. Still, he found patience in his greed.

He only smiled when Daishou found himself again, the beast at bay, and pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth.

The moment was theirs.

Until it was not.

“Daishou.”

Daishou stilled, suddenly his grip on the other boy so tight Kuroo winced at the sharpness of pain. Daishou’s eyes darkened, but not in the heavy and intoxicating way from before. They were dark, angry, black and dangerous, as they slid away from Kuroo’s face to find the source of the voice. His jaw was clenched and his voice was heavy in his throat, thick with some kind of unspoken greed. It was almost as if Daishou had become defensive. Animalistic. Wild. Protective. His yellow eyes flashed with silent rage, screaming at the onlooker— Kuroo was his.

“What the fuck do you want, Tsukishima?” Daishou hissed, stepping before Kuroo as if to shield him with his body. As if he was the only one allowed to see Kuroo in this way-- flushed and pretty.

Kuroo’s cheeks flushed harder than they had before, feeling exposed before the blond vampire. His classically impassive expression was soured, rigid, with his lips pressed into a firm line as looked with disdain towards the pair of boys. No, it was not disdain of which he looked. It was judging, critical, but it was not hatred. There was something stirring in the depths of those golden eyes as they narrowed in on Kuroo’s face. His bright red face, with a bubble of nervous laughter on his mouth. He felt very young standing before him, like an embarrassed school boy caught doing something he was not supposed to.

Tsukishima did not look Daishou in the eye, however. His gaze was unwavering on Kuroo, holding his eyes, as if he too was searching them for an answer to an unspoken question.

“Sugawara wants to see you inside,” he stated, plainly.

A low growl rumbled in his throat. “Very well.” 

Swiftly, he took hold of Kuroo’s hand and began to lead him inside, but he was halted by Tsukishima’s raised hand.

“Alone, Daishou,” he said, seriously.

Daishou was glowering, but he did not retort. He did not look back at Kuroo as he walked away, but Kuroo could tell he was annoyed. He was pissed off. But Kuroo did not know at whom. The power Sugawara must have-- if one even utters his name and follows with a command, there are no questions asked, only obedience. 

Then, standing on the balcony, it was only Tsukishima and Kuroo. Kuroo swallowed hard, bending down to grab the blanket which had fallen off his shoulders. Without the warmth provided by Daishou’s kisses and curious hands, he was cold again, the chill ebbing into bones the longer he held Tsukishima’s icy glare. He expected some kind of insult, some kind of lecture based on the hundreds of years of knowledge he held over Kuroo— but he didn’t. 

He just, sort of, looked at him.

What was Kuroo supposed to do?

He did not fear the black eyes of vampires, he did not fear the closeness of Daishou’s mouth to his and how easily a kiss could shift into something more lethal. He did not fear the vast unknown, the ever deepening of void as he peered over the metaphorical ledge he forever stood above. But for some reason— right now— he was afraid of Tsukishima’s silence.

His never-ending silence.

Kuroo held his blanket close to his body and frowned, anxiously leaning back against the balcony and crossing his arms over his chest. He bounced on his heels a tiny bit, feeling like a young school boy ready to earn a scolding from a very serious adult authoritative figure.

“So, uh,” Kuroo started, flustered to find the right words. He could still feel Daishou’s warm mouth against his. It made his flush burn even brighter on his cheeks. “Are you mad?”

Tsukishima’s eyebrows shot up, completely thrown by the question. Kuroo bit his lower lip nervously— a lower lip Daishou kissed— as he felt childish shame fill his entire chest up with tension and he swayed slightly. He had never elicited a reaction like that from any of the vampires, especially not the cool and impassive Tsukishima. The same Tsukishima who would purposefully poke to stir a room, intentionally irritate his peers, a fan of instigation as a form of casual entertainment. Kuroo couldn’t keep his smirk stifled and soon he was giggling.

“I think you’re stupid,” Tsukishima admitted. “But I’m certainly not mad.”

Kuroo grinned.

“No, you’re definitely mad.” Kuroo’s hazel-brown eyes were alight with some kind of joy he had forgotten his body still managed to release. He laughed again, quietly. “Are you jealous Daishou likes me more than you?”

Tsukishima scowled. “Fucking hell, Kuroo, your age is showing now. Come inside before you freeze to death.”

The blond vampire promptly turned on his heel to head inside, Kuroo following closely behind him. A stupid smirk lingered on his face as he entered the room, giggling behind the boy.

“Lay off, Tsukki,” he teased. “I’m a big boy, I’ll kiss whoever I want.”

Tsukishima snorted. “Better yet, I changed my mind. I want you to freeze to death. Would you like me to escort you back to the bottom of the lake?”

Kuroo laughed, joyously. Brightly. Resounding from the core of his chest. The ice had melted and warmth filled him all the way up once again. And he thought he saw Tsukishima smirking too, his pretty golden eyes shining in that lovely way he liked to look at.

Casting one glance back over his shoulder, he peered into the trees, finding only snow and darkness in his wake. For some reason, for half a moment, he thought someone would be looking back at him. The lingering chill of speculative and curious eyes burned at the base of his neck, sending tingles of uncertainty across his spine and causing the hair on his arms to stand up with anticipation. He gave it a moment, earning a raised eyebrow from the vampire, but eventually turned his back to the trees and rubbed his arms. Maybe he was just cold. Maybe the trees threatened him and activated a trauma response so deep within himself he could no longer loiter before its presence.

Or, maybe, his intuition was wrong.

He smiled and followed Tsukishima into the promised warmth of the house.

***

Kuroo dreamt of the sun.

He did not dream of the inky black ocean. He did not dream of a star filled night sky. He did not dream of creatures of the night, nor their bloody mouths, and threats of razor sharp teeth. He did not dream of his world being flipped, of the endless in-between in which he walked. He did not dream of cruel things, of nightmares, of evil beasts, of betrayal. Of cold water. Of death.

He dreamt of the sun.

And all things warm and promising.

Light cascading over meadows made up of soft grass. Rolling hills touched by sunlight, bright golden beams, yellow and unachievable. The kind of light made up of stardust and serenity. Peace touched all ends of the earth, no matter how haphazard and shattered the fragments were. They were all healed by the gentle strokes of sunshine, the kind of gift the stars wish they held within themselves. Nothing could be as soothing as the sun, as warm, its heat enveloping like a safe embrace. It’s life filled with breath.

And when he stirred from this fantasy, this dreamscape, he awoke to eyes which reminded him of the sun. Amber and radiant. The kind of light which touched his chest so deeply he breathed so easily for the first time in so long. It was nice, he thought, that he could still do this. That he could still breathe easily. How pleasant.

The dark-haired boy blinked away the sleep from his eyes, confused for a moment by the brightness of the room he was in. The curtains were open and the sun filtered in, casting beams of light over his bed and onto the walls of the room. He made a soft sleep noise, curling over into the yellow that coated his pillows and hummed at the warmth as it heated his cheek.

“Kuroo, nooo,” the bright and eager voice whined. “Don’t go back to sleep, it’s the afternoon!”

The small orange-haired boy jumped onto the bed, pressing his arms into the taller boy’s midsection, giggling as Kuroo groaned and tried to wriggle away. Hinata was acting silly, climbing over him and nearly tumbling off the edge of the bed as Kuroo sleepily shoved him off. Despite his vampire strength, Kuroo pushed his small build easily away. Perhaps if the boy had been trying the story would have a different ending, but for what it was worth, Hinata was effortlessly movable. He could not help the grin from pulling at his mouth as he rubbed at his eyes and stifled a yawn.

Hinata launched himself again, collapsing onto Kuroo, causing the taller boy to huff loudly and laugh, desperate to escape from his friend’s merciless attempts to yank him from sleep.

“What the fuck are you doing? Go away, let me sleep,” Kuroo groaned, mouth upturned in a smirk as he tried to sit up, the orange haired boy flopping over him, trying to escape Kuroo’s shoves but nearly falling off the bed again. He tried to sound serious, but his attempts were fruitless as he could not help the laughter as bubbled past his lips.

“No, you have to get up.” Kuroo noticed the boy’s words were beginning to slur together at the ends and his smirk seemed a  _ little  _ too happy. “You’re the only one who can enjoy what we’re making.”

“Are you drunk?” Kuroo asked, unable to suppress the shock in his voice. He groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes, dramatically. “It’s a Tuesday. And the sun’s out.”

“ _ It’s a Tuesday _ ,” Hinata squeaked in a mocking tone, then rolled his eyes and repeated in his normal voice, “You have to get up. We have a surprise for you!”

It took Kuroo longer than Hinata would have liked to climb out of the bed and stumble towards the bathroom to get ready for the morning— or early afternoon, he soon came to realize. His sleep had been so heavy, so peaceful, when he stared at himself in the mirror, he thought, for the first time in a very long time he did not look completely exhausted. The face which stared back at him, with his messy uncombed bedhead, and his hazel-brown eyes, did not seem like a poorly crafted shell of himself. He seemed whole. And as he pat dry his face after washing it and finding Hinata’s giant round eyes staring back at him, his silly smirk still on his lips, he thought with all of his heart— he was going to be okay.

He was really going to be okay.

“Let’s go,” Hinata squealed, grabbing onto his friend’s arm and dragging him out of the bedroom and into the hallway. Kuroo went with him willingly, letting the boy’s kind hand lead him to wherever he must go. 

Hinata was floating across the room, so light and airy, his feet seemingly barely touching the ground. Barely a noise as his feet touched the floor. It made Kuroo grin, the way the vampires acted when their walls slowly crumbled, either by choice or by influence of intoxication. They went from these structured and calculating creatures, forced into the rigid box of expectations per humanity and the quirks related to humans, and shifted into lightweight monsters, beautiful and graceful in all of their movements. Kuroo could watch them like this forever, moving effortlessly. Floating. Graceful. Remarkable. So unlike humans. So perfect and seamless. They were always going to be a wonder to him because they were better than the predators society claimed them to be.

Vampires could be good.

They could be so, so good.

The smell hit him as soon as he turned towards the living room and the laughter and chatter followed soon after. Hinata glanced over his shoulder to grin at the human boy, excited to catch his reaction to the scene as it opened up before him. It was unlike any speculation he expected while living in the vampire house. He was overwhelmed, to say the least. He could not wrap his head around it, finding the breath he held onto in his lungs exhaling in once swift gasp. His eyes widened as he stood motionless in the doorway while Hinata giggled and floated away like a phantom of goodness.

It was so pure.

Everyone was laughing.

Everyone was  _ baking _ .

What surprised him the most was the comfort each person shared with one another, the connection only family members held, the kind of unending love and compassion most people wished they experienced just once in their lifetime. Everyone held onto this, moving around one another with ease. Their movements were seamless, flowing from one action to the next without a second of hesitation or wariness. They were well conditioned to one another. They were a family and they loved each other, despite their differences, despite their own dark and traumatic backgrounds, despite the anger some of them held, the loneliness others held— they were a family. Loving. Warm. Together.

Kuroo could have cried, he was so overtaken by the loveliness of the scene.

A cautious hand took his own and he looked to find Daishou standing beside him, urging him to join the commotion. Kuroo beamed at him. He joined the family and embraced the casual and wholesome Tuesday early afternoon activity of day drinking and baking an assortment of goods— goods none of the vampires could truly enjoy apart for Kuroo. But they would try anyway. They were so good.

Sugawara appeared to be the ringleader of the baking, a soft pink apron tied around his waist. The longer pieces of his hair were tucked onto the top of his head, pinned back with black bobby-pins to keep it out of his face. His cheeks were rosy, either from the heat of the oven and the gentle stress associated with baking large amounts of goods or from the mug of a sweet peach smelling drink he kept pausing his dough kneading to sip. His eyes were alight with life, shining brightly, brighter than Kuroo had ever seen before, and his  _ smile _ . He was grinning, laughing, flour spotted his cheeks, and he swayed with a lightness which surprised the dark-haired boy because his last interaction with the boy, he bore a heavy coldness about himself. This suited Sugawara. Many things of this life were fleeting, but he hoped this was not. He wanted the silver-haired boy to stay this way forever. 

Sugawara danced over to his mug and held it in both hands, humming quietly to himself as he took a big whiff of the fruity and sweet peach scented drink. He savored the moment, breathing it in deeply, holding it close to his heart as happiness touched him. He seemed so soft in the yellow glow of the kitchen, the sunlight illuminating the whole living room. He seemed so at peace, sipping his drink and swaying to the music he played in his head— or maybe it was the sound of his family’s connectedness, moving together, in unison, as one. It didn’t matter. Sugawara was so soft.

Daichi was close to him, never a few steps away, sipping his own drink which was much richer and woodier in scent. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes were softened on the edges instead of his usual hard and strong unwavering glare. His jaw was relaxed when he looked at Sugawara, fondly watching his lover move about the kitchen with a smile on his mouth. The dark-haired vampire soon moved closer to him, curling his arms around Sugawara’s waist from behind, hugging him close to him and pressing small kisses onto his shoulder. Sugawara did not flinch or wince as he may have in the past— he giggled, like a shy boy who was unsure of flirting. This ageless vampire blushed at Daichi’s touches, giggled when Daichi smiled into his neck and kissed him there too, squirmed away with a small squeak when Daichi tried to catch his mouth next. But he did not leave him hanging, he twisted in his grip so that he was facing the other boy and lazily curled his arms around Daichi’s neck, kissing him softly on the lips. It was sweet. It was love.

No one looked their way except for Kuroo.

Nishinoya and Tanaka were hunched over the counter, giant bags of frosting in their hands as they moved painstakingly slowly over an assortment of cookies, decorating them with the bright colored icing. The cookies themselves were uneven and lumpy, likely products of their inability to slow down enough to make sure the cookies were perfectly shaped. There were full sized toppings baked into the cookies, a combination of flavors a human would sour at, but for a vampire it was the most joy they would’ve known. Tanaka exclaimed loudly when the icing dripped off the cookie and onto the plate it was sitting at, earning a reactive scream from Nishinoya. With both their eyes wide, distress plain on their face, they desperately tried to salvage the fallen icing. The pair continued screaming as the panic around them resulted in another plate of cookies to come tumbling off the counter and shattering on the floor. Somehow the plate itself withstood no injuries, but the cookies were a lost cause.

Asahi hurried over to scoop up the pieces of ruined cookies, his cheeks flush with intoxication, cleaning up after the chaotic pairing as they tried to contain the mess they made on the counter. Tanaka startled at Asahi’s sudden appearance, accidentally squeezing frosting onto Asahi’s arm and onto his shirt, coating him in a soft violet. Asahi stared up at the cackling vampire and grinned, wickedly, grabbing hold of one of the unused icing bags and aiming the nozzle directly at Tanaka. The pair moved so swiftly, their vampiric speeds demonstrating before the human, as they began to chase one another around the kitchen. Tanaka was crying out, afraid for his life because Asahi behind the nozzle of an icing container easily was the most threatening thing he could encounter in this moment.

Nishinoya joined promptly after Asahi started running around, chasing Tanaka as they ducked around the living room furniture, leaping over couches and chairs with ease. Their laughter was contagious, Kuroo found himself giggling alongside them as he watched fondly. 

“Noya, get him from behind!” Tanaka called as Asahi closed in on him, waving the icing threateningly over his head, his dark brown eyes alight with a fiery frenzy. Tanaka leapt behind the couch and cowered, throwing himself against the floor, as Asahi came even closer.

Nishinoya cackled and launched himself at the long-haired vampire, grappling onto back and wrapping both arms and legs around him, causing Asahi to tumble forward and collapse onto the couch with a loud and dramatic thud. Sugawara watched them with a smile on his mouth, his eyes so soft, as he rocked into Daichi’s hug from behind the kitchen counter, safe from the attacks of frosting. Nishinoya smushed a large plop of dark blue icing onto Asahi’s face while he squealed and squirmed to escape the smaller boy. Kuroo wondered if Asahi was actually trying to pry Nishinoya’s small form off of his body or if he was letting his boy have his harmless fun. He soon came to realize it was the latter as Nishinoya immediately ceased his shouting and cackling to lick the smear of icing off of Asahi’s cheek, firmly. Asahi promptly reacted by tossing Nishinoya off of him and onto Tanaka who was still cowering behind the couch. His face was horrified, blush burning so hard at the tops of his cheeks.

Nishinoya and Tanaka were wheezing on the floor, their laughter filled with glee as it filled the room with an unbreakable brightness. Nothing would be able to shatter the cozy atmosphere as a bunch of silly boys doing their best to enjoy their long never-ending existence. Asahi was bright pink when he fled the scene, hurrying into the kitchen to wipe his face clean of icing at the sink and pretend his lover did not just lick his face in front of the rest of his family. Daichi laughed and patted his shoulder as he offered a towel. Sugawara hugged onto Asahi’s arm, grinning widely, his eyes closed and cute as he gave him a small squeeze.

Friendship. Family.

Tsukishima was there too, his brow furrowed as he sipped his drink quizzically, as if he was trying to parse through a flavor profile Kuroo certainly knew did not exist for him. It was kind of funny to think about. His incredibly heightened sense of smell probably could identify every single part of the food before him, but his taste was nowhere at all. He was sitting at the dining table, a plate of different baked goods in front of him, an assortment of brownies and misshapen cookies, each with a bite taken out of them and the rest sitting unprepossessing on the white ceramic plate. It was as if he was studying them, trying to crack a secret code longer he stared at them, and eventually, he plucked a small chocolate chip cookie from the plate and frowned at it.

“I’ve noticed if I think hard enough, I’m able to taste the chocolate a little bit better than if I didn’t think about it at all,” he said, softly, his voice low and quiet compared to the rest of the room.

“Let me try.” Hinata dashed to sit beside him, imitating his position, curiously staring at a cookie inches from his face. He attempted to match Tsukishima’s expression, but burst into a fit of giggles after a few moments of trying and eventually just popped the cookie into his mouth, chewing with the happiest smirk on his lips. His eyes widened with surprise and excitement. “I can taste the chocolate!”

Tsukishima stared at him, unimpressed, his hand on his cheek as he rested his elbow on the table. “You can taste a lot of things, Hinata.”

Hinata only grinned further and took another one of the chocolate chip cookies from the plate as Tsukishima, disgruntled, pushed them towards him.

Daishou sputtered with laughter, slipping away from Kuroo for a moment to rustle around in one of the cabinets. He motioned for the human boy to follow him, joining him in his exploration of the liquor cabinet. Kuroo wondered, absently, how alcohol affected their bodies, and how much they must have been drinking in order to achieve the level of casual chaos they were engaging in now.

As Kuroo approached, Sugawara slipped his hands around one of Kuroo’s arms and smiled up at him. His fingers were cold. It was nice. With the vampire standing so close, he suddenly got nervous. He was not shying away from the intensity of his allure— in fact, he could not sense any piece of it at the moment. He was not overwhelmed by the reminder of all the previous memories they shared from long ago nights. Sugawara just looked so pretty, his pale hands wrapped daintily over his bicep. His angelic face illuminated by a halo of warm light shining from within him. He was  _ shy _ because he was  _ just  _ a human boy and Sugawara looked  _ ethereal _ .

“Drink whatever you want, Kuroo,” he said, his voice like music. “We have so much to share with you.”

“Do you guys always bake like this?” Kuroo asked, a little uneven because of the lightheadedness he experienced from Sugawara’s wide and pretty eyes. He placed his hand over Sugawara’s, earning an amused glance from Daishou and a mild glare from Daichi. Kuroo couldn’t help but grin.

“Mm, sometimes, when I’m in the mood,” he said, smiling. “It’s my favorite thing to do when I’m feeling like this. Although, I’ve never had someone around to bake for. Would you try some of it for me? Tell me if it’s right?”

Sugawara sighed contentedly, pressing his cheek against Kuroo’s shoulder. Kuroo did not realize how small the boy was compared to him. It made him want to wrap him up and keep him safe forever— something he certainly would be unable to do. He resisted the urge to hug onto him back, finding he would rather enjoy the moment without Daichi’s incessant hovering and sending Daishou all of the wrong signals.

He would have rather been hugging onto the green-haired vampire.

He thought of his mouth, soft and warm, but quickly allowed the thought to pass.

“Okay,” he replied, nodding. He felt warm and wanted. “As long as I can have a mug full of whatever you’re drinking.”

Daishou scoffed, “You don’t want what he’s drinking.”

Sugawara giggled, ignoring Daishou, and moved to prepare Kuroo whatever fruity concoction he had been sipping on for most of the morning. Asahi cleared the space for Sugawara, allowing him full reign over the kitchen while he burdened himself with reading the recipe instructions on the back of a store bought cake mix. His brows furrowed as he scratched absently at the bit of facial hair on his chin, troubling over the list of ingredients he could not taste. Nishinoya arrived behind him, pressing his face into his muscular back and hugging him. Asahi rubbed his boy’s thin and pale arms silently as he continued to read, as if this was natural for them, second nature— he did not have to think about all the ways he loved the shorter boy.

“Do you want to make this cake with me, Noya?” Asahi asked, glancing over his shoulder to look at his face, a shy smile twitching onto his lips.

He nodded, eagerly.

“Tanaka, get the eggs ready!” Nishinoya cried, beaming, his entire face lighting up the room as his brown eyes shimmered with unabashed delight.

“Roger!” Tanaka barreled past Sugawara who gracefully moved away from him, the pair barely missing crashing into one another, but it seemed so intentional and practiced. Like a dance.

Sugawara handed Kuroo a cup of something extremely sweet smelling.

“Don’t throw the eggs so hard this time, boys,” Daichi warned, his voice rough and deep in his throat. “I don’t want to have to mop up more egg shells.”

“Let them have fun,” Sugawara hummed, leaning close enough to Daichi with his lids heavy over his eyes to make the dark-haired vampire’s breath hitch in his throat. Sugawara grinned and moved away before Daichi could even touch his hand. “Throw all the eggs you want!”

Fear flashed before Daichi’s eyes, but he held it together by clenching his jaw and stepping completely out of the kitchen to give the space to those who dared participate in the event of madness. Kuroo was bustled out of the way by Daishou’s hand on his back, despite his quiet grumbles of protest.

“I promise you, you do not want to be a part of this,” Daishou replied, a knowing smirk on his mouth. “Let’s stay out of the splash zone, sound good, sweet boy?”

Kuroo grinned at him and started to sip from his cup as he approached the dining table where Tsukishima and Hinata were sitting. The flavor of the beverage was unexpected, it was heavy on the liquor, immediately burning his entire mouth as well as overwhelming him with the false flavor of peaches and peppermint. He grimaced, choking quietly into his arm as he tried to pretend it was fine in hopes of appeasing the silver-haired vampire. Daishou raised an eyebrow at him, lips twisted into an arrogant smirk as he slid easily into the seat beside Kuroo.

Kuroo tried to pretend the vampire’s yellow eyes were not following him, taking in his entire form, critically observing the way his eyelashes moved when he blinked, the way his lips were touched with wetness from the syrupy sweet drink, the way his throat moved when he swallowed and grimaced at the flavor. 

Kuroo felt heat touching the tops of his cheeks.

Daishou’s smirk was wicked.

He wanted to kiss him again.

“You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to, Kuroo,” Tsukishima said, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arm over his chest. “You also don’t have to consume any of this.”

Kuroo frowned, “But I want to. How bad of cooks can you all be?”

“Noya and Tanaka only brought you oranges when you were sick and anemic,” Hinata said, casually, still staring at his cookie. “We don’t cook. Most of us don’t even really know what most foods are anymore.”

“But Kuroo is allergic to oranges?” Daishou hummed, staring beyond Hinata as if he was trying to figure something out in his head. He seemed troubled, but unsurprised by the actions of both Tanaka and Nishinoya-- a pairing truly made for destruction only.

“Exactly,” Hinata sighed.

Kuroo chuckled and sipped his drink again. No matter how many sips he took, he would not be able to ignore the overpowering flavors and scents as the alcohol burned his entire mouth. But he did not mind it too much. He’d tasted worse things in his life and the thought of Sugawara putting energy and care into mixing this for him made him want to finish it all without worrying about anything else. So he did. He swiftly tilted his head back and swallowed the rest of the drink in one swooping motion and shuddered only when his taste buds had caught up with him.

All three of the vampires sitting around him at the table stared at him, their eyes all wide and surprised, but Hinata’s seemed to be more excitable than the others. Hinata laughed first, his head tossing backwards as his orange-hair shook around him, the long pieces curled into one another, fluffy and soft to look at. His laughter was from somewhere deep in his chest, the kind of laugh so natural and easygoing it’s a wonder why it’s so rare to find in others. Tears touched the corners of Hinata’s eyes as he laughed, sweet and ringing in Kuroo’s ears. It was easy to look at him, small, howling with glee, a complete opposite transition from how he looked before Kuroo the night before.

Sad. Small. The promise of eternity clouded by the weighted darkness of a nightmare.

An eternity of this laugh, however, would promise a dream.

“Two eggs, heading your way!” Nishinoya called, hurdling two eggs across the kitchen towards Tanaka who held a bowl pressed against his chest.

Asahi winced as it approached Tanaka, his fierce expression blazing like a fire. The egg crashed into the vampire’s hand, but it did not shatter on impact as Kuroo would have expected. Instead, it was caught, lightly, as if its shell was the most delicate thing in the world, and Tanaka cracked it in one quick motion, so fast Kuroo may have missed it if he had blinked, and dropped the yolks smoothly into the mixing bowl. Asahi was laughing now, too, sipping his drink and fondly watching the two boys chaotically prepare the cake mix.

Nishinoya dipped his finger in the batter once it was prepared and reached up to poke Asahi on the nose to leave a spot of chocolate. He grinned widely when Asahi tried to lick it off with his tongue, giggling at the sight of his usually withdrawn lover being silly.

Sugawara was leaning over the counter, kneading some kind of dough, flour touching all parts of his face and apron, coating him in a thin layer of white powder. He was laughing as Daichi had a comforting hand on his back, chatting with him with his dark brown eyes shining.

Kuroo sat, hesitantly nibbling on wonky cookies that tasted a little too much like baking powder and less like the chocolate he wanted them to taste like. Hinata, Daishou, and Tsukishima sat around him, each of their mouths touched with a smile as they watched him rate the cookies, giggling together at Kuroo’s expressions as he shifted from confusion to joy to confusion again.

Daishou’s hand was close to his, close enough to remind him he was there. Close enough Kuroo had the choice to touch him, but was comfortable if he decided not to. His yellow eyes were soft on the edges, rounded and gentle as he watched Kuroo, and they twinkled. He watched in fascination, with curiosity. Kuroo was the most interesting human he had ever known and it made his chest ache knowing he had to share sitting before this dark-haired boy’s humanity with the rest of his family.

It would be unwise to take him away from them.

It would be unwise to be greedy.

His greed in the past had not served him well.

But Kuroo was not plagued by thoughts of death and darkness. The void his chest once knew too well was filled with substance, filled with sunshine, filled with laughter and light. With cookies and brownies and the sweet taste of peaches and peppermint. His head had lightened, unburdened now that the effects of his syrupy sweet drink had filled his head with a soft fuzziness which made his cheeks turn pink and rosy and warm. He did not mind the greed he saw in Daishou’s yellow eyes, and absently placed his hand over the vampire’s as he discussed with Hinata the different flavors of the lemon bar Sugawara had brought over a little bit ago.

It was an idle touch, natural, something he did not have to think about. However Daishou was consumed completely by the touch, the warmth of Kuroo’s hand, the gentle thump of his heart as he felt it pulse in his fingertips. The way his skin felt on his own, his fingers long and thin, his palm rough and uneven where his stitches left a pale scar. It did not matter that Kuroo was a human nor that Daishou was a vampire when his hand felt this way against his own. It did not matter the countless days of torture Daishou endured floating in the midst of Kuroo’s scent as the human boy remained absent of his presence. It did not matter the countless nights of sleeplessness Kuroo endured to face his nightmares of barren wastelands and blackholes, of never-ending galaxies of starless skies, of blackened eyes and the threat of red mouths.

Daishou turned his hand and intertwined their fingers.

Kuroo met his eyes.

He smiled.

Daishou grinned.

For a moment, Kuroo saw something flicker across his eyes. Normally, he would mark the fleeting moment as an unreadable emotion, an expression he did not understand nor expected ever to. Normally, he would bury the memory away, holding onto it so that he may revisit it one day and compare it to other fleeting emotions that crossed Daishou’s eyes when he found himself staring into them silently. But, today, on this very warm day, he thought he recognized something. As it flickered, he understood something.

He did not see Daishou, the ageless vampire. He did not see Daishou, the monster with blood red eyes and pale skin touched by death. He saw Daishou, a young boy, with innocence in his eyes. Simple infatuation. A crush, some would say. It was so harmless and youthful. Human, Kuroo thought halfheartedly, a smile twitching onto his lips.

These vampires were not so much unlike him. They craved the same things all other humans did.

A gentle touch of a hand.

Asahi dipped low, cupping his lover’s face, and kissed his smiling mouth.

A kiss.

Daichi’s arms wound around Sugawara’s slim form as he beamed at the brownies he pulled out of the oven.

An embrace.

Hinata’s euphoric laugh growing louder as he rocked in his chair, wrapping his arms around his midsection.

Laughter.

Tsukishima smirked to himself and placed a firm hand on the top of Hinata’s head, ruffling his hair.

Connection.

Tanaka wrapped his arms tightly around both Sugawara and Daichi, causing Sugawara to grin and press a soft reassuring kiss to his temple. Asahi joined in to place a comforting hand on Sugawara’s back, Nishinoya griping and groaning that he was not able to join in on the group hug. Soon, they allowed the shorter boy in and pressed themselves close to him as they all laughed together, teasing one another relentlessly. 

Family.

There was nothing which bound humanity to the simplest parts to life. There was no reserve of softness meant only for those whose hearts beat by themselves, whose blood was their own, whose warmth was not manufactured. Humanity may not be as fleeting as the vampires once believed, finding themselves aligned with the values of beings of light, frozen in time in a body meant to withstand a forever. No wonder they thought themselves so cold and heartless, naming themselves monsters, existing as beasts created to invoke fear in young children. They paralleled humanity in that they looked the same, spoke the same, but they functioned as predators. 

They could function as humans as well.

They were humans first, he remembered, but he never understood what exactly that meant. The vampires could be good, they could cloak themselves in light, in the warmth and yellow of a thousand stars, and hold that warmth so close to their chests it may as well have been burning inside them. And they could be cruel, heartless, monsters of the night. Eternity cloaked in darkness. Humans could exist in the same way.

Humanity was not always yellow and sunlight.

Humanity was starlight. A shimmering beacon of light, of yellow, surrounded by darkness.

Kuroo was not so different from the boys who sat beside him, the boy who held his hand, the boy with fire for eyes, the boy who held all the attention in the room and never once asked for it.

Kuroo squeezed Daishou’s hand, lightly, gently, reassuringly. He smiled at him, softly. He wished to kiss him, to stay in that moment forever where he saw Daishou for what he truly was— a human.

A forever human.

He was just a boy.

And so was Kuroo.

Humanity was not something Kuroo thought about often, but he found himself pondering its greatness more and more. He felt fortunate enough to be able to generate an idea, labeling those moments when he felt competent in his own skin, when he identified his friends as a piece of the great and gigantic puzzle of humanity. His vampires were part of this puzzle. The family he had created was deeper and richer than anything he had imagined.

And those moments were warm.

His thin understanding of humanity, however, was bound to be broken. To be shattered.

Because, as he has been reminded time and time again— he was only human.

Whatever strength he knew, whatever invincibility touched him in this moment, rattled.

The stars were not visible without darkness.

And Kuroo knew darkness too well.

It started with Tsukishima. The blond boy had suddenly shifted in his seat, paused, held his breath, his shoulders tense as his eyes found the entranceway into the living room and combined kitchen. His smirk had faded, his laughter silenced, and his jaw clenched. Hinata then caught on, catching his alertness immediately and following his eyes, his small form beginning to stiffen at the tension in the air as it spread over them like ice cold water paralyzing their limbs.

The noise of the room died, cutting so sharp the sensation felt like glass shattering all around Kuroo. All the laughter ceased, all the joy was sucked out of the room like a vacuum, and the intensity of it all left Kuroo gasping for breath as if the severity of the shift of mood physically altered the air around him. It felt thin, his breaths suddenly shallow, and his hand tightened on Daishou’s. His grip had become desperate. Lost. Afraid. The others in the kitchen had stilled as well, carefully moving away from one another as the world seemed to flip around them, from joy to fear, from light to dark. Everyone was tense. Everyone knew something was wrong.

The feeling built in Kuroo’s chest like pliable darkness, heavy and unsettling, causing his stomach to twist and churn with nausea he did not feel from before. It was thick, like black poison, filling his chest, taking his spots of light, his moments of yellow, the void of grey and painted it all black. The kind of black which was sick and dangerous, the kind of black which only knew death.

The kind of black which coated the insides of the dead, of the diseased, of the darkened.

A promise of certainty--

Never waking up.

“Someone’s here,” Hinata hissed between clenched teeth, but he did not move first. Something flitted across his eyes. “Only one.”

“Fuck,” Tsukishima cursed, understanding flashing across his face quickly before he hardened again, his eyes serious and intense as he stared at the entrance. He was waiting, but not patiently. His voice was a growl. “Kuroo, get behind me.”

They were no longer humans.

The vampires had awoken.

It was clear danger was upon them. Kuroo staggered to his feet, disoriented in the presence of the predators, the creeping feeling of fear buried itself firmly at the base of his bones, chilling his entire body as he struggled to navigate his thoughts. His mind was beginning to become consumed by the fear, fear he could not avoid, fear he had not felt since that day— oh god, it was all rushing back to him. It was bubbling up, threatening to spill over, the sanity he had held onto— oh god, oh god,  _ oh god _ — what was  _ happening _ —

Tsukishima grabbed his arm when the boy did not move, yanking the gasping Kuroo into a position behind him. Kuroo stumbled over the chairs, his hands weak as he started to tremble, grabbing at the wood but it kept slipping from his hands. Was he sweating? Why were his hands so wet? He frantically threw his head up, eyes wide and terrified as he stared at Tsukishima’s back, his fists clenched at his side. Hinata stood closer to him, but still with his back to him, shielding him with his small form. Daishou stood the closest, stepping in front of him as if to hide his presence, cover him in shadows, make him as small and inconspicuous as could be. But nobody was looking at him. Nobody was talking about him. Nobody was thinking about him. Somebody look at him, somebody look at him,  _ why was nobody looking at him _ .

His breathing was ragged and he  _ couldn’t stop shaking _ — what was happening— oh god, oh god, oh god—  _ who was here? _

Fear dug its fingernails into his spine, his limbs ached as he struggled to stand upright.

What was this weight upon him? This pressure to shatter, this pressure to submit, to become small and obsolete. Why wasn’t he stronger? Why couldn’t he stand up straighter?

Why couldn’t he breathe?

Why couldn’t he breathe?

_ Oh god, why couldn’t he breathe? _

Nishinoya growled from the kitchen, low and threatening, something animalistic, something unnatural. Something dark and evil. The vampires in the kitchen had moved, their movements silent and stalking as they moved to the living room, positioning themselves through unspoken orders. Each of them moved like monsters, like wild animals, like beasts of the forest— everyone except Sugawara.

Sugawara held himself completely different. There was no tension in his shoulders, no growling of his voice, not hissing between his teeth like the others. He was not angular and angry, he was not violent and vengeful. He floated as he walked, his silver-hair was soft to look at, his voice musical when he eventually spoke, his mouth easygoing and inviting— it was only his soft brown eyes which had shifted. They were not touched by the blackness which had already begun to cloud Nishinoya and Tanaka’s eyes, they were not hardened and vicious like Daishou and Tsukishima’s, they were not wide and curious like Asahi and Daichi’s— they were soft. They were kind.

They were sad.

“Why is it I never get invited to these little tea parties anymore?” It was a voice like nothing Kuroo had ever heard before. Each word so purposeful, so pronounced, so intentional, like it was punched into the air, permanently existing there until the atmosphere decided it was done listening to its ringing. It hummed in Kuroo’s ears, piercing his skull, and he realized  _ he was so afraid of the voice _ .

“Suga, darling, don’t you think it’s a bit rude to not invite your friends? I would’ve loved an invitation. We used to have so much fun at these.” A figure entered the room. No, not a figure. A  _ monster _ . “But I suppose, it is in bad taste to show up unannounced without bringing a gift of some kind.”

The  _ creature  _ which entered the room was unlike any beast Kuroo had ever seen. He was more wicked than any monster of the night, more terrifying than any nightmare he could conceive, more terrible and vile than the pure disgust of blood dripping from a rotting corpse. He was tall, his skin paler than ash, his face was sharp, his chin pointed and striking. But his eyes— oh god, his  _ eyes _ — were the epitome of evil. He was not like the others, his shining red eyes did not hold a black backdrop. His irises were just  _ red _ . Crimson. Daunting. Shining with a wicked glee, a hysterical glint. Pure, unabashed, cruel— evil.

There was no other way to describe him.

He was not a man. He was more than a monster.

His dangerous red eyes flitted across the room, finding every single vampire’s and soon, they found Kuroo’s eyes. The human boy struggled to stand before his glare. His heart raced in his chest, breathing shallow and desperate. The creature’s eyelids fell heavy over his eyes as his gaze narrowed in on him and his mouth curled into a twisted grin. Kuroo was surprised to find his teeth not coated in blood.

“Oh, I remember! I suppose I can offer you one thing…” the monster said, grinning wildly, turning his attention to the silver-haired boy. Unchecked mania, mania disguised as pure evil. The kind of wicked mania one would find within a horror movie or disguised as a villain in a book. But this was neither of those things. This was Kuroo’s real life.

And it buckled around him, shuddering against the weight of this new monster, and threatened to completely rearrange every certainty he thought he knew. Every fiber of understanding he had placed, every seed of knowledge he had watered— all of it seemed meaningless standing before him. He was a contradiction. A mistake. A glitch in his universe. Or perhaps, he was everything Kuroo had been blind to.

Because this man— no, this monster— was beyond his understanding of humanity. Beyond his understanding of vampires. Of monsters.

“Oikawa sends his love.” The beast grinned, his hair wild and windswept, haphazard and unkempt, and a fiery, deep red— red like blood.

Sugawara smiled, gravely.

“Tendou,” he said, softly. “How did you find us?”

_ Oh god, oh god, oh god—  _ Kuroo couldn’t breathe.


	20. on monsters.

Kuroo was dying, probably.

Kuroo was no stranger to chances of death, this much was certain.

Kuroo had become accustomed to the intolerable plague of fear. He knew the chilling torture expected when fear’s icy fingers pressed like tiny knives against the darkest parts of his insides, when it pierced his flesh and burrowed itself deep into the basic structure of his entire body and left him cold. Unbearably cold. The kind of cold which leached away at his warmth, at his breath, at his mind until there was nothing left of him.

A void was expanding in his chest. Empty and black.

It continued to take, and take, and take, and take.

It was not of his own devices that his words fell away, that his breath was no longer his to control, that his thoughts raced to a point where the lines between reality and some long-forgotten nightmare blurred as his unconscious beckoned him away from the ledge.

The vampires would always tell him that he was strong— but he did not feel strong.

There was more for him to learn about this dark and devastating world— so much more.

He could be strong later.

Right now, all he knew was to be afraid. He did not have a choice. This monster was unlike any creature from the darkness he had encountered before.

Right now, he thought he was dying.

***

“How did you find us, Tendou?” the silver-haired vampire repeated, a hint of annoyance touching his words this time as his soft brown eyes followed the red-haired monster about the room.

“How long has it been, Suga?” Tendou said, walking around the living space as though he belonged within it. As though he had not been an intruder and he was simply visiting a friend’s home. “About a decade? Maybe a little bit longer? How are you faring these days? You look pale.”

He walked with an uneven gracefulness about himself. He moved as if he was always a little bit unsteady, yet his motions ended in elegance and it was clear there was never a hesitation in his action. There was never a thought which held him back in any way. Each movement flowed into the next, smoothly, like a dance. But it was unlike any of the others. When Sugawara moved, he floated. When this creature moved, it was too otherworldly, too unnatural— he appeared a beast. Inhuman to the very core. And it left a deeply disturbing sensation of constantly being unsettled gnawing at the pit of your stomach.

His pacing about the room was slow and intentional, his long fingers were slender and pale as he splayed them out before himself, running a sharp and pointed fingernail across the couch. He seemed unbothered as he walked, leisurely stalking about the room without a single hint of tension in his shoulders as the other vampires glared at him, their muscles tense and their eyes black.

A smirk played at his mouth, his eyes were shining, bright red and touched by mania. It was as though he enjoyed the attention. All of the white-hot hate as it poured from Tanaka and Nishinoya’s rigid postures, the cautious curiosity of Asahi and Daichi’s clenched fists— Tendou soaked it all up and it filled him with a wicked kind of glee.

“Don’t waste my time,” Sugawara said, his voice was harder now, the warm smile on his mouth seemed strained, but only slightly. There was no mistaking the threat in his words. “Say what you must and leave before I no longer give you the option to stay.”

He cackled, resounding and sharp, causing the shadow in the room to wince in his paralyzed silence. The red-haired monster laughed with his entire body, shoulders trembling as his head was tossed back, his eyes crinkled at the corners. The expression of pure joy on his face was hard to miss. The light in his eyes glimmered— but there was no mistaking how fast his expression changed when he looked at Sugawara.

His grin was wicked, devious and cruel, and his eyelids weighed heavy over his eyes, narrowing his gaze as he glared at the silver-haired vampire with a look of disdain so raw it may as well have dripped from his pores and painted his skin black like charcoal.

“I missed that mouth of yours. So sharp. So scathing. Always quick to retort, aren’t you?” His grin widened, his face twisting in an unpleasant way which seemed to somehow fit his unnatural features comfortably. “I don’t think I’m the only one who misses your mouth, either.”

Sugawara’s grin was serious, not a touch of amusement sparkled in his brown eyes. His patience seemed to wane rapidly, his arms moving to cross over his chest as he tilted his head to the side.

“How did you find us, Tendou?” Sugawara repeated himself once again. He did not enjoy repeating himself.

The monster scoffed, flapping his hand dismissively in the silver-haired boy’s direction and rolling his eyes extra hard for good measure. His mouth was still upturned into a nasty looking smirk as he turned his back to Sugawara, permitting himself an opportunity to continue to leisurely stalk about the room. He sent a sideways glance towards the vampires who had exited the kitchen, not closing in on him, but moving in a way which would make a fast escape difficult for the red-haired beast.

Asahi and Daichi headed the shift in the room, both of their brows furrowed and their expressions deadly. Daichi’s dark features were darker and Asahi’s cool and gentle face suddenly appeared sharp and angular as they glowered at Tendou. There was hate in their eyes, something deep and dark. It was strange to see the pair so angry, so judgmental and damning, when they often held so much light in their eyes. So much kindness.

What did the shadow in the room know about any of these vampires?

Tendou snorted, ignoring the pressure Asahi and Daichi had placed upon him by moving ever so closer, and found himself distracted by an assortment of desserts on the dining table. At first, his interest seemed genuine, his red eyebrows pulling as he curiously studied the misshapen cookies with their odd combinations of various ingredients. He picked it up, carefully, as though it may burn him, between two long fingers and lifted it high over his head.

“I see your attack dogs are still primed for a fight,” Tendou commented, still investigating the cookie, ignoring the quiet building of tension as it swept across the entire room, his head tilting to the side as a frown pulled at his lips. “What the fuck is this? Do you ingest these?”

Tendou glanced over his shoulder to peek at Sugawara, who was frowning. The sight made the monster cackle, his laughter sounding similar to that of a hyena, wild and unhinged. His eyes widened at Sugawara, and his lower lip pouted out dramatically.

“Oh, come now, Suga, crack a smile,” Tendou taunted, high-pitched giggles bubbling past his lips as he glared wickedly at the silver-haired boy. “You’re beginning to bore me with your thinly veiled threats. There doesn’t need to be any bloodshed today. I know you have a guest.”

Sugawara’s eyebrow twitched and the entire room suddenly darkened. A low, resounding growl rumbled from Daichi’s chest.

It made Tendou huff.

“Stay silent, you arrogant mutt. Bad dog.” The red-haired monster reacted, his face twisted with annoyance at the noise, and tossed the cookie he held in his hand at Daichi, lightly hitting his chest and falling to shatter on the ground. The sight made the vampire cover his mouth with his hand and sputter with laughter. Daichi growled again and took a hard step forward, but Sugawara’s raised hand stopped him in his tracks.

Sugawara was not looking at Daichi. His eyes not once left Tendou as the red-haired monster hooted and hollered at the blatant disrespect of the dark-haired vampire. It filled him with joy, caused his violent red eyes to shine and shimmer with glee. Cruelty radiated from the long and lanky being, his entire form swaying as he moved, thick blood-red locks of hair dancing alongside him— he was made up of the darkest parts of the underworld and still he shined.

He shined so brightly.

Where Hinata was as bright as the stars, a light in the darkness, Tendou was as bright as a flame— meant to ravage and burn and destroy everything it touched.

“I want to catch up, it’s been so long.” Tendou was grinning. “The least you could do is entertain me for just a bit longer. Before I get bored. You won’t like me when I get bored.”

“I already don’t like you.” Sugawara’s jaw was beginning to clench as his soft face started to harden.

A look of false shock spread across Tendou’s face, his mouth falling open into a small ‘o’ while his eyes widened, dramatically. A noise like a whine tore itself out of Tendou’s throat and suddenly, all at once, the vampire moved at an inhuman speed. He swept himself away from the dining table and the cookies, so fast a blink was too slow to capture the entire action, and then the red-haired beast was standing before Sugawara.

He made the silver-haired vampire seem petite and little, tiny, staring up at him with his neck strained enough to give him a look of something inferior. But it was not with inferiority upon which he glowered at the red-haired monster. Sugawara’s presence had grown, filling up the space around him, his energy and strength radiating from his thin slender form, and soon he was burning too.

Like a forest fire.

Like a beacon.

Tendou’s mouth was twisted up into something nasty, something hard to look at, the danger in his eyes so severe it could have shattered glass, slicing through it as easily as a blade through flesh, and both analogies seemed appropriate. His mania began to bleed.

Long fingers snapped into Sugawara’s hair, softly at first, stroking through the long and ashy locks as though he were petting an animal. He brushed the pieces against his neck, lips peeling back to reveal a row of razor sharp teeth, flashing like a wild animal, something unhinged and mad. His giggle was low and rumbling, deep in his throat, like a monster, as darkness seemed to seep from him. Dark tendrils of madness and wickedness and cruelty unseen by human eyes— because humans did not survive the encounter.

“Oh, Koushi, you precious thing,” he hissed through clenched teeth, his smile unwavering as the silver-haired vampire grunted softly at Tendou’s ill-intentioned touches. “It’s cheating to use your allure on me. You know it doesn’t work like it used to. I’m stronger now.”

Sugawara grimaced as Tendou’s fingers tightened in his hair, yanking down hard to expose his pale neck, the light thumping of his heart visible through the artery which ran along his neck. False heartbeat. False blood. A mockery of humanity.

His soft brown eyes flashed with anger, yet his face remained neutral. Tendou sneered.

“Your hair is shorter. It used to be so long.” Tendou lowered his face closer to Sugawara, causing the shorter boy to strain to look up at him, his breath catching in his throat at the discomfort of the angle. “You used to be so pretty.”

The monster pressed his face into Sugawara’s neck, inhaling deeply, as the silver-haired vampire clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, swallowing whatever immediate reaction he had. Tendou cackled, loudly, causing the boy to flinch away.

“So delicate,” he hissed, voice like venom. “So lovely.”

The monster pulled down hard against Sugawara’s hair, earning a stifled gasp of surprise.

“He misses you, you know,” Tendou nearly snarled. “Do you miss him?”

Sugawara reopened his eyes.

They were lethal.

A snarl ripped itself from Daichi’s chest, with a loud crash the dark-haired vampire was surging forward, eyes pitch black and devoid of humanity. His expression was dangerous and violent, his body rippled as rage coursed through his veins like poison and it ached him to lean so far into the darkness of his wrath, an unsettling path of hatred born of a once long ago event the shadow in the room did not understand completely yet.

Asahi and Tanaka moved the fastest, gripping onto his arms, tearing him away from the red-haired monster, restraining him as he thrashed and hissed and spit to escape their unwavering grip. Asahi’s mouth was near his ear, murmuring soft and silent words to soothe him, but it was apparent nothing would settle his seething rage unless Tendou’s throat was pressed between his hands and he choked on his last bit of breath. Tanaka’s face, however, was twisted with pain, as though he wanted to release Daichi, as though it hurt him to keep his friend restrained in this moment because he shared a similar sentiment: he, too, ached to watch Tendou bleed out and die on the very floor they stood upon.

But now was not that time.

“Get your fucking fingers off of him,” Daichi growled, even his voice was pitch black.

Tendou was slow to turn to look at Daichi, his gaze lingered on Sugawara’s face for a long and painful moment before his red eyes shifted, sliding over, to stare at the vampire which cursed his name in his violent voice, the edges of his words rumbling and ripping at the ends. He did not sound human. He sounded like a monster. It made Tendou’s eyebrow raise, timidly at first, curiosity in his gaze, but then his smirk followed.

“You mean I can’t do this?” In one sweep of his hand, Tendou yanked hard again at Sugawara’s hair, causing the boy to crack along the edges, enough to have his hands fly up to curl around Tendou’s wrist so that he did not have the same leverage. His eyes started to burn, but there was a distant look about him.

His mind was no longer in the present moment. His thoughts were beginning to consume him. The distant barren wasteland, the everlasting void behind his eyes, started to reveal itself in pieces. 

Daichi tried to move again, desperately trying to shake off Tanaka and Asahi who grunted against his pressure to be released. The dark-haired vampire was growling and snarling, snapping his teeth like a starved animal at the red-haired monster. It made Tendou laugh, deep from his belly, cackling as his hand stayed firm in Sugawara’s hair, dragging his head around like a doll.

“You’re too easy, Daichi,” Tendou snickered. “You’re the only one who would actively go against Sugawara’s orders, right? It’s almost as if—”

His red eyes flickered to Sugawara then back to Daichi, who continued to thrash against Tanaka and Asahi’s strong grip. It was slow to unravel, the understanding of the actions. The way Sugawara was scowling, holding Tendou’s arm gingerly between his hands, his soft brown eyes feigning caution to the dark-haired vampire. The blatant disregard of the order to the room, the unsaid plea of silence and cooperation, and overwhelming sense of desperation to get to Sugawara, no matter what. To take him into his arms and draw that look out of his eyes— the wasteland.

“Oh,” Tendou said, abruptly. There was a silence. Then, the cackle followed. “ _Oh_.”

Sugawara tensed, but only slightly, wincing when the red-haired monster’s face had whipped around to face his own, his smirk baring his teeth as his eyes held a glint of wickedness within him. His mind had put the pieces together, connected the dots, and it sent the monster reeling. His laughter was barely stifled, he giggled as he spoke, the sheer pleasure from the discovery made the monster’s sides hurt as he tried to keep his composure.

“Suga, you _didn’t_ ,” Tendou wheezed, putting both hands on the silver-haired vampire’s head and petting his long locks softly, lighter than before. The way he spoke to the vampire had changed, it had turned into something amiable, as though they once held each other in high regards. Like they had once been friends. Maybe, perhaps, long long ago. “Please tell me you did not _fuck_ him. Oh, I’m begging you, tell me I’m reading into things. You did not sleep with _him_.”

Daichi snarled, again.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” the vampire growled. “Get your fucking fingers off of him.”

Tendou eyed him, over his shoulder, struggling to contain the wild grin on his face, but something snapped within him. He wheeled around, his eyelids falling heavy over his eyes as his vision narrowed in on the vampire still being restrained by the others. He leered at the vampire, standing taller than him, and just a space away lest the shackling grip on Daichi faltered. He was grinning, a nasty sort of grin, the one the villain would wear on their mouths as sadistic joy made their shoulders tremble with twisted glee. Daichi’s expression was hard, his teeth gnashing, and his lust for Tendou’s demise was prominent across his features. 

“Why do you keep talking to me, you filthy whore? Last I checked you’re still at the very bottom of the chain, Daichi, and somehow you managed to make yourself even lower.” His eyes flashed violently, strength bloomed in his chest, but it was the color of death. Putrid and dark. “How long have you been pining after our fleeting little fairy? One decade? Two? An entire century? Did it feel good when he finally gave you attention? When his loneliness became too great for him to bear and he turned to _you_?”

Daichi’s expression remained hardened and angry, but the blackholes of his eyes seemed to darken. Seemed to expand within his own void of intrusive thoughts and unresolved fury. Tendou knew exactly what he was doing, and like a thumb to a bloody wound, he continued to press.

“I bet he does not even think of you when you touch him. Behind his eyes, when you kiss him, there’s another face he’d rather be kissing. How could he want you? His entire being was created for another— you don’t compare at all. Oikawa is going to split your arteries one by one and tear the flesh off of your broken bones when I tell him—” 

“ _Don’t—_ ” Sugawara hissed, through clenched teeth. The words had fallen abruptly out of his mouth, as though he had not meant to say them at all. And the way he stared at Tendou, it was not the same Sugawara as when the monster had first arrived. His soft brown eyes were widened, slightly, making his face seem round and innocent, his cheeks flushed a light color of pink, and the emptiness he held behind his glare… there was too much there to unpack it all. Too much nothingness. A bitter kind of cold, a sadness long overdue, and an overwhelming sense of loss of control.

His lip trembled, for a moment, before he clamped his mouth shut. He had said too much. And slowly, he regained control and the wasteland crumbled away. Just enough for him to look sadly at Daichi. With regret. With shame.

Tendou did not let the moment pass without his intervention. He appeared before Sugawara, his hand finding Sugawara’s hair again, no longer with the intention of pulling at the soft grey locks and instead as a form of misplaced comfort. Behind his dangerous red eyes, he held hundreds of years of respect for the silver-haired vampire. A shared existence unspoken between the two and it would continue to stay that way. Behind forgotten memories, behind walls of separation and loss, behind emotions neither of the two were willing to process because of what happened— when a once connected family severed and fell apart.

“Your hair may have changed, but you did not,” Tendou murmured, quietly. “You are exactly as you were a decade ago, no matter how hard you pretend you are not.”

Sugawara kept his eyes averted, glaring somewhere beyond the monster as he revisited memories he would have rather kept locked away.

“What’s it like living without him, Suga?” Tendou said, trying to pull his attention back. “Is it as unbearable for you as it is unbearable for him? I’ve never seen him cry before you left.”

Sugawara’s mouth fell open, as though he had been compelled and his tongue was not his anymore. As though he had words he meant to spill, words he did not want to share, but before they could tumble freely, he stopped himself. Something behind those soft eyes of his shattered and a wild glint birthed itself within him. He started to bloom, just as Tendou had. Instead of with warmth and with kindness, tendrils of darkness, poisonous like toxic fumes grew around him and for a split second— he was the most powerful vampire in the room.

But he did not speak.

“Why are you here, Tendou?”

It was not from his mouth which the words came.

Tendou had suddenly frozen, staring at Sugawara intently, waiting for him to crack even further underneath the pressure he had created within the room. The room had silenced at the words, all noises of breath and growl faded to the background, irrelevant against the rise of anger which soon bubbled in the belly of the red-haired monster. Sugawara swatted Tendou’s hand away from his face and the red-haired monster allowed it to happen. He was too stuck on the voice to care what the silver-haired boy had done.

He turned on his heel, slowly, to face the trio of vampires who had stood in the corner, the darker part of the room where the sun did not shine nearly as brightly. Where shadows masked a human boy, surrounded by his keepers. But for the intention of protection, the orange-haired boy had taken a risk. He, instead, drew in the very monster he had meant to avoid. For what reason?

The element of surprise? Or, perhaps, something heavier? Protection of the leader of the family— to give Sugawara a moment of pause. To breathe. To find himself again.

Tendou, however, was not angry. No, he was not vengeful or vicious appearing. He was grinning, wildly and wickedly, as his red eyes narrowed in on the smaller boy. A sharp laugh tore itself past his lips, forced and arrogant. He held Hinata’s defiant gaze for a long time, smirking when he finally spoke.

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

“I don’t die easily,” Hinata spat, unable to mask the venom which laced his words.

“Is that a challenge, dear Hinata?” Tendou cooed, something terrible flashing behind his eyes. “Are you feeling guilty for surviving? You know, if you really wanted to die, you don’t have to work so hard and waste your breath— you easily could just take a stake to your heart and bleed out right here on this floor.”

Hinata matched his wild expression, his own mouth pulling into a wicked and wide smirk, his own amber eyes flashing with disdain. The pair glowered at one another, the orange-haired boy’s jaw clenching tightly, forcing his words through gritted teeth. It was the nastiest Hinata had ever been, his unprecedented rage and distaste of the red-haired vampire was plain across his face. Every inch of his small body was tense, adrenaline coursed through him, his insides tainted by bile as a foul flavor touched his tongue. It was disgust. He was disgusted.

“Then I would have missed the shock on your face when you found out I survived all those years ago,” Hinata responded, his grin widening ever so slightly, his teeth flashing, sneering. “What are you going to do now? Tell Oikawa?”

He spat the name like it was dangerous to hold in his mouth.

Tendou laughed, the noise ringing in Hinata’s ears. The kind of genuine laughter which made something unpleasant stir in the orange-haired boy’s stomach. His eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Do you think I’m surprised to see you? Have I ever given you the impression that I care about you being alive or dead? Forgive me if I have, I want this to be very, very clear to you,” Tendou bit his lower lip in an attempt to keep the giggles from spilling over any further. “You are absolutely worthless to me. Frankly, I do not care if you live or if you die. You are nothing but a waste of space. It’s just more fun to watch you bleed.”

Tendou raised an eyebrow and smirked, arrogant. Knowing how deep his words were meant to cut, how like a blade, he tried to slice through the front the smaller boy had put up around him. There was no mistaking the intention of his words. It was not with fondness the red-haired monster looked upon Hinata with.

“Had I been the one assigned to murder you, you certainly would not have survived. How you did not get shredded, limb by limb, until you were broken and begging for life… that is what is surprising to me.” Tendou hummed, absently scratching at his chin as though he was deep in thought. The corner of his mouth pulled into a half smirk as he eyed the boy, eager to catch his reaction to his following words. “Did Kageyama get weak for you?”

Hinata’s jaw clenched ever so slightly.

It was impulsive, without thinking, his body reacting to the name. A movement tied to a memory. The orange-haired boy’s expression darkened. The whites of his eyes clouded with blackness, as though the bile had finally made itself known. As though the poison was leaking from within him and threatened to stain his entire body black.

“Kageyama is weak in a lot of ways, Tendou. You are just blind to it,” Hinata retorted.

A gross gagging noise came from the back of the red-haired monster’s throat.

“You keep talking as if I am listening to a word you are saying,” Tendou snorted. “But maybe you are right. That tracker bastard is good at a lot of things, but maybe he is not good at you. I wonder how he missed your disgusting scent. I knew you were here before I even saw the house for the first time. You reek of human.”

For a moment, Tendou’s eyes flickered up, beyond Hinata. Beyond Tsukishima. Beyond Daishou. Towards the shadow of a boy who had been consumed by fear. He certainly had not been forgotten. Just as quickly, Tendou’s eyes found Hinata’s again.

“It wasn’t you who found us,” Sugawara breathed, softly, behind Tendou. A murmur into the room and the realization spread like thick lava, heavy and slow to move, creeping across the earth and torching everything in its sight. It’s magma was a promise of death, a promise of destruction, a crawling certainty, a tedious threat as it licked the life away with its hungry flames. “It was Tobio.”

Hinata stood, scorched.

“Well, obviously. Who else would it have been?” Tendou cackled, waving a dismissive hand over his shoulder at Sugawara. He kept his eyes upon the smaller boy, watching as layer by layer he began to unravel and expose the darker parts of himself. Piece by piece Hinata’s front began to flake away like dust in the wind, burnt and blackened and useless. “We decided to make a game of some information we came across. That grouchy looking bastard beat me, I’m ashamed to admit. But I’m not too bothered by it. I’m the one who gets to stand here and make the threats. It’s a fair trade-off.”

Hinata’s fists clenched at his side and his breathing began to tremble, his regular and confident breaths shuddering into something shallow and uneasy.

“Although, I’m a touch disappointed. I would have loved to see the moment he realized he fucked up. Unless… I am wrong in this assumption.” The red-haired monster’s grin spread across his mouth, pulling at the sharp edges of his face, making his expression razor-like. Deadly and viper-like. “Tell me Hinata, which part of this is harder for you to swallow?”

Hinata grimaced, the darkness of his eyes deepening as the void started to eat him alive. Consuming him. Enveloping him. The blackened bits of himself began to crackle. What was underneath?

“Knowing Kageyama, even with his strengths as a tracker, has forgotten your scent after all this time?” Tendou knew exactly what he was doing. He knew exactly where to press. His confidence dripped off his pale skin. He was shining in the worst way possible. “Or knowing you are so profoundly meaningless to him he picked up your scent and did not care to react?”

The light in his eyes faltered. The shimmering amber light, like a candle in a dark room, was suddenly extinguished. The void in his eyes, an expanse of nothingness, submerged the last of his yellow in its hungry and hollow mouth. Vast and unsightly, all the life he held within himself trembled and gave out, disappearing as easily as it had existed. Hinata no longer was himself. There was certainty of what he was. The last of his light had burnt and cracked and withered away and what remained, what lived underneath those broken pieces, was all he was ever left with.

A monster.

A victim of a forever midnight.

His eyes were shining— red.

Something cracked within Hinata’s frame, something about the way his shoulders bearing the weight of the world shuddered, something about the dampening of the fire in his eyes, and suddenly— all at once— he was surging forward. Suddenly— all at once— the beast within himself had clawed itself free, and like Daichi, he charged the red-haired monster.

Tendou opened his arms to him, laughter tearing itself from his throat joyously as the wicked glint in his eye shined even brighter. He was eager to accept the tiny vampire, welcoming of his viciousness, and was willing him to come even closer.

But he was not attacked.

Hinata had been halted, his arms held back effortlessly by two slender pale hands as he continued to thrash violently against them, his teeth snapping wildly. Hissing and spitting and growling, his feet moving so aggressively he slipped and stumbled to break free from the prison he had abruptly found himself in. It was sad to watch Hinata’s desperate attempts to escape, like a caged animal, his snarling and gnashing useless against the binds across his arms. For a moment, he seemed certain to sacrifice his limbs for the sake of tearing Tendou’s throat out.

Tsukishima held him, kept him contained. He did not struggle. He did not waver. It was easy.

Tendou only grinned, stunned silence falling heavy across the room. Everyone watched without uttering a word, their breath held tightly in their throats. His arms were still held out, empty, waiting for the monster to break free. When he did not, he continued to cackle, the noise was harder. Throatier. Deep from the depths of his chest. He was howling with laughter.

“There’s our little vampire! I knew you had it in you!” He jeered. “How does it feel, Hinata? The venom coursing through your veins? Pumping like sweet, sweet poison, filling you up, turning your entire world red? Do you want to kill me? Do you want to watch me bleed out like an animal?” 

Hinata fought harder against the blond vampire’s grip.

“I’ll fucking kill you, I’ll rip your throat out, I’ll tear you apart!” Hinata cursed, mouth wet with saliva as he bared his teeth threateningly. How easy it must be to kill in this state, to crave blood, to crave death and destruction. How difficult was it to swallow this instinct, to bury it beneath kindness, beneath softness, beneath the desire to remain human?

Tendou was beaming, brightly, like his own star of darkness.

“If only you had been like this when you were turned, you vile creature, then maybe Oikawa would not have hated you so much. Then maybe we would have kept you around.” Something about Tendou had changed, something about his presence was different now. He was wilder. He seemed to be unraveling at the ends, fraying, and with it, his sanity seemed to slip from him. The wicked glint in his eye was fueled by mania. He was becoming hysterical. “But instead you chose to play with your food. Useless. Useless, worthless, waste of space. You know, not everyone thought so little of you. Some people thought you could have been great. Your fire, your passion. For a little while, Oikawa admired you. He thought you would be useful.”

Tendou was stepping closer to the small vampire as he thrashed and cursed and spit and growled. Tendou’s eyes were wide and wild and giddy with glee. Tsukishima’s hold on the vampire did not falter.

“Not me, though,” Tendou continued. “I wanted to rip that eagerness right out of you. I wanted to rip your heart out and watch the light dull in your eyes. I thought you were a waste of venom. A disgrace to our kind. A lapse in Kageyama’s judgment.”

“Control yourself, Hinata,” Sugawara said, softly. “These are only words.”

Something about Sugawara’s voice was more gentle than it should have been. There was some understanding behind his words, some shared experience. Sugawara sounded sad.

Tendou’s red eyes narrowed, leering, he was grinning still as Hinata trembled in Tsukishima’s grasp. His small form had filled with such intense rage, his thoughts no longer his own, everything belonged to the monster as it rushed inside of him and had finally broken free. It was clear there was an internal battle happening behind Hinata’s eyes, the void seeming not so desolate— yet the bloodlust for Tendou lingered.

“Where is your boy tonight?” the red-haired monster giggled. “I wonder if he will mind if I spend some time with you. It’s a good thing Kageyama was too weak to end your pathetic existence. Now I’ll get to watch as he bleeds you dry. Would you like me to fetch him for you? I’m sure he’s itching to prove himself to his master again.”

Hinata was thrashing.

“Tell me! Tell me!” Tendou cackled, his voice rising high in his throat, his eyes wild and manic. “What did it feel like when he chose Oikawa? When he took your life for the sake of his own?”

“I’ll fucking slit your throat.” Hinata hissed, his body shook violently, his hands clawed at the pale fingers which kept him in place. Trying to break free, trying to unleash himself, trying to do anything he could to escape. Wetness pooled in the corners of his eyes as he struggled, as he started to whimper against Tsukishima’s grip. His legs were giving out, getting weaker and weaker as whatever light left within his body struggled to overcome the monster. His voice was dark and splintered along the edges. He was breaking. 

“And I’ll kill him too.”

He was suffering, that much was clear. It was hard to look at.

There was sadness in Hinata’s bones, so vast and wide, so deep and dark there was no facing it head on. It was a misery unknown to many. An agony unbearable to all. Was he weak? Or was the pain so great even the strongest staggered?

What did he do to deserve this?

“Will you?” the monster grinned, flashing his teeth. “But won’t that cross your values, little human lover?”

“It won’t cross mine,” Tanaka threatened, his voice shattering the pitiful silence which had fallen across the shoulders of the rest of the vampires as they had watched the scene unfold. His voice was loud, booming, enough to earn a sideways glance from Tendou, his eyebrows raised and a half smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He sputtered with laughter.

“And what of you, Tanaka? Still trying to make yourself worth a damn? A lot of bark coming from the washed up war hero. It’s such a pity, you died a martyr in a war and were reborn a side character.” He barely offered the vampire a second glance before he waved a floppy hand in his direction, mindlessly, dismissively. A mock pout on his lower lip. “I don’t care about you.”

Tanaka dipped his head low and bared his teeth, but it was more of a smirk than a threat. His eyebrows were angled, sharp to look at, and suddenly his presence grew. Enough to encourage the smaller vampire next to him, tiny form tense and strong.

“Talk shit, get hit, Tendou,” Nishinoya scowled, his eyes black as night already, face twisted up into his own nasty expression.

Tendou made a disgusted noise in his throat, glancing at Nishinoya for only a moment before scoffing, rolling his eyes and returning his attention to Hinata whose struggling began to slow. Dark bruises were beginning to show up along the spots where Tsukishima’s fingers pressed the hardest as his body tried to rapidly heal itself in the presence of pain.

“Quit your yapping, you annoying little beast,” Tendou grumbled, touching his hand dramatically to his forehead as though a sudden headache had touched him. “Honestly, Asahi, I do not understand how you tolerate such a creature. If I had been mated to him I would’ve killed myself a century ago.”

“It would do you well to watch your tongue, Tendou,” Asahi murmured, voice low and deep in his throat. It was as close to threatening as the vampire could manage, his fingers curling into tight fists at his side. “Say what you must and go. You are not welcome here.”

“I always seem to overstay my welcome,” Tendou mumbled, sighing. “You lot are just so fun to tease. You’re all so simple. So easy to poke.”

Hinata’s breathing had begun to temper, heavy and ragged breaths as his lungs ached for air in a way which was all too human. His body had gone limp against Tsukishima’s grasp, tired of fighting, and slow to come down. The blackness of his eyes was beginning to fade, his red irises shifting back to its familiar amber, but the light did not return. Instead, his expression had fallen to match the emptiness within his eyes. The desolation. The sadness. The sick shame, hot like poison in his veins, draining him. Leaving him just as empty as the void in his chest as the realization sunk further into his psyche— he was just a monster at the core of it all. He was walking within the wasteland again as he struggled to remain completely upright.

There was still a hardness to his stare as he watched Tendou, the monster circling back to him with his teasing grin, manic-filled glare. He giggled, quietly.

“Ready to play again?”

“What are you doing, Tendou?” Tsukishima sighed, impassively. His head tilted to the side as though he was bored with the interaction already. “You’re such a nuisance, honestly, it’s so boring.”

Tendou’s crazed expression stiffened as he met Tsukishima’s golden eyes. Something about his smirk seemed forced as he narrowed his glare on him, letting his eyelids fall heavy over his eyes. The general looseness of his movements hardened and suddenly every step he made was intentional and purposeful, pointed and forced as he stepped closer to the blond boy who still held onto Hinata, now with a softer grip.

“Tsukki,” Tendou spat. There was a pause. “Shut the fuck up.”

A crooked grin pulled at Tsukishima’s mouth.

“It’s good to see you too, bastard,” he replied.

“I was wondering when you were going to insert yourself into this mess. You never knew how to stay in your lane.” Tendou’s head cocked to the side, hard. His neck bent in an unnatural and inhuman way. He was still grinning. “You look like shit.”

“And you’re becoming predictable,” he said, his tone unchanging.

Something wild flashed behind Tendou’s bright red eyes and a nasty noise which could be described loosely as laughter tore itself from his lips.

“Predictable? Ha!” In a beat, so quickly a blink would have been too long of a moment to waste, Tendou was directly in front of Tsukishima, his long and slender pale fingers gripping his face, squeezing his cheeks between his fingertips. Their faces were inches apart.

Hinata had slipped away, staggering back towards Daishou and the shadow of a human boy, permitting space between the pair. Allowing them a moment for themselves because this was not a simple reconnection of family members. This was not enemies reconnecting. There was a fondness in each of their eyes shining as brightly as their apparent distaste for one another. A sprinkle of respect. Of general admiration. And also disgust.

“You think I’m predictable?” Tendou muttered through clenched teeth. His fingernails were sharp and pointed, like claws, and they dug deeper into the soft flesh of his cheeks, a small bead of blood trickling down his chin and onto the monster’s hand.

Tsukishima was grinning, his warm golden eyes alight with arrogance before the other’s glares.

“How’s Yamaguchi doing?” Tendou cooed, softly. “I haven’t seen him recently.”

His grin faltered.

That was enough.

The red-haired monster snickered, pushing the blond boy backwards, causing him to stumble slightly, his feet suddenly feeling heavy and weighted beneath him. Tsukishima’s attention had shifted, his once arrogant glare thinning into something humbler, something easier to look at. His confidence slipped away from him, but it was not at the red-haired monster which he stared. 

He was looking beyond him. To the silver-haired vampire who stood, his shoulders set back, his delicate fingers clenched into hard fists at his sides. His expression was soft, however, the gentle features of his face, the pleasant roundness of his eyes, the innocent warmth of pink flush at the tops of his cheeks was inviting and lovely to look at. But if your gaze lingered, if your stare found his eyes— the pretty warm brown with the sparkle he wore so well… it was gone.

Dried up. Dead. Gone.

He had become something else entirely. 

Something happened to the room. The vampires had gone silent. Not a breath escaped their lips. Not a muscle twitched. Not an eyelash bat.

“Since that is sorted,” Tendou growled, low in his throat, twisted at the end, abhorrent and evil. “Onto the main event.”

The shadow in the darkest corner of the room became the center of the red-haired monster’s attention. His breathing had become the loudest in the room.

***

“What’s your name, human?”

His name? Was somebody talking to him? Could somebody see him, finally?

“This is not about him, Tendou.” That was Asahi, right? Asahi could see him?

“Do I look like I’m talking to you? Come on, little human boy. You don’t look so scared now. Tell me your name. I won’t bite.”

Afraid? What was he saying about being afraid?

“I know you have a voice. What’s the matter? Did you forget how to use your tongue? I suppose you have someone to blame for that, don’t you?”

Is he talking to him? What is it he is saying?

“This is between us. Don’t get him involved. Please, Tendou. He didn’t do anything wrong.” Hinata? Had he been crying? He sounded weak. Small. What?

“Don’t get him involved? Is it not a tad bit too late for that? It seems to me he is already very involved. Isn’t that right, Daishou?”

Daishou? Was he close? Was he nearby? If he reaches out… would he touch him?

“If you lay a finger on him, I will rip your throat out.”

Daishou’s voice.

“Is that a threat or a promise, lover boy?”

“It’s Kuroo. My name is Kuroo.”

The world started fuzzy and grey, like a blanket had been draped over his head. It had been like this for a while now, this space made up of shadow figures and faraway voices, as he traveled through a void of nothingness, like a lost soul navigating the realms of divinity. He was the only light in the dark world, illuminating just enough to see his foot stepping out in front of himself, one after the other, and he walked and he walked and he walked.

He thought, perhaps, that he was dying.

His mind sheltering itself from the pain his body experienced, enveloping him in the very void which pulled the life right out of his bones, which turned his blood to ice, which made his heart feel as though it was going to stop completely and he would drown in the permanently frozen gasp of breath stuck in his throat.

And all at once, he remembered where he was.

And all at once, his understanding of life— of heaven and hell, of monster and man, of warmth and chill, of light and dark— stitched itself together with loose threads and he was able to see the room before him for what it truly was.

A room full of predators. But he did not feel like prey.

But the fear he felt before was different now. The air in his lungs did not sit in his chest right. Everything felt a little bit fractured.

He took a slow, shuddering breath, finding his voice somewhere within himself.

“My name is Kuroo,” he repeated, a little bit louder and more certain of his words.

At first, no one reacted. At first, there was nothing at all.

Then a smirk spread on Tendou’s lips, slow and stretching, filling up the entirety of his face as he gazed at the human boy from where he stood, far enough away for Tsukishima, Hinata, and Daishou to stand between them. Like a line of defense, each vampire holding their own space, each vampire determined to not let the red-haired monster move a step closer.

But when Kuroo had spoken, the others had stiffened. They had not expected him to find his voice. They had not expected him to speak to the monster, drawing him in, permitting him to know his name. Opening himself up to a creature of nightmares, a creature who has struck fear into the hearts of the bravest men, a creature who would rather see him split open and bleeding out. For a moment, the others could not remember what it was like to see Kuroo in all of his strength.

This was not his strength, this was a smaller piece of it. A splintered end. The scraps of something much, much larger.

“Kuroo, huh? How interesting. What is it that makes you so special, little human?” Tendou teased, a giggle a breath away.

They certainly did not expect Kuroo to try to take a step forward. The movement was unsteady, like his legs remembered they were meant to be weak, and his lungs burned as though they remembered they were supposed to be suffering. The intrusive thoughts started to crash against his mind as the terrified part of himself screamed to take control again, begging to be released from whatever prison it had been fractured off into, hidden away, buried down because right now— he was not afraid. He was curious.

It was a warm bead of yellow in the depths of his chest, surrounded by all the grey, all the black.

His chin lifted as Tendou’s eyes flickered up and down his body, slow, meticulous, intentional. To anyone, their skin would crawl. They would feel victimized. Chosen. Abused. But Kuroo wanted him to see him. He wanted to show him he could stand here, be ridiculed and mocked, and he would not cower. He would not cry.

Tendou’s grin deepened.

“Do you not fear me, human?” Tendou spat, through clenched teeth.

“I’m afraid of a lot of things,” Kuroo admitted, quietly.

Something terrible and wicked crossed Tendou’s eyes. Something thoughtful and impulsive all at the same time. If a smile could kill, Tendou certainly would have taken out the entire room. There was a darkness to his eye, mixed in with that wild and manic glint of hysterical glee. He did not crave blood in the same way the other vampires did. Their bloodlust was simple— just as a human craved food. But this beast, this wild mane of red hair, this monster made up darkness and nightmares— he craved death. He was not interested in feeding, in satisfying a hunger. He was interested in the painful process of ending a life, the gradual promise of breathlessness. Of misery. 

Blood, but everywhere.

“Do you think you are brave?” Tendou growled, suddenly. “Standing before me with your army of human-lovers? Do you think that because your heart beats life into you, you are somehow better than me? Than the rest of us?”

Kuroo was silent.

“That’s what I will never understand about you filthy creatures. You are so arrogant and so fragile. I could snap your neck right now. I could end this tiny, meaningless life of yours in an instant and it would not matter at all.” Tendou was seething, his words hot like lava. Spiteful, laced with venom so poisonous it stained the air around him black like smoke. “Do you think you are special because you made friends with vampires? You’re just entertainment to them. How long did you truly think you would survive alongside them?”

Kuroo did not flinch at his words, because he had heard them before. It was not the first time he had been told he was worthless. That his life was a blink in time, so small and fractional, that it did not matter whether he lived or died. That he was nothing at all to the boys who stood around him because they had forever and he had much less than that. The sting he would have felt did not harm him, not this time, because he did not believe that to be true.

There were many opportunities for him to die. For the vampires to let him disappear from their perpetual existence. He would be a forgotten memory, like their human lives, faded to blackness.

“This is your final warning, Tendou.” Sugawara’s voice was not his own. It was low in his throat, deadly and serious. It, too, was painted black. Unwavering and strong as his presence filled up all those dark spaces. All the uncertain words not shared by the others, all the bitter growls falling upon deaf ears, all the hidden places behind Kuroo’s weakened knees. “Threaten my family again and I will kill you.”

Tendou whirled around, his eyes wide and bulging as an angry laugh ripped from his chest.

“Your family?” he retorted, spitting as he spoke. “You dare label this fucking human something meant for our kind? For your own brothers? What about Oikawa? Would you hold this vile creature, this Kuroo’s life over his? Over your own? What about your real family?”

The creature began to wilt, the pieces which held him together slipped away from him. Something wild and wicked began to burst from within himself and the layers of sanity trembled. Like Kuroo’s understanding of reality and nightmare, Tendou’s mind buckled at the weight— the disgust— of the words he was hearing.

He turned to look back at Kuroo, eyes red and dangerous. Kuroo held himself steady as Daishou moved closer to him, instinctively, his body a shield before Kuroo’s own. But Tendou did not once look at Daishou, nor any of the others, he held Kuroo’s gaze alone. He held it for so long, Kuroo’s breathing began to wan, his lungs began to ache, and the familiar sensation of icy fear prodding its knife-like fingers along the darkest parts of himself began to rise within his throat.

“You make me sick, human. What is your life truly worth?” There was a long pause between Tendou’s next words. They dripped like poison from his mouth. Lethal. “I’ll give you 72 hours, Sugawara. Come home with us or I’ll kill your whole family. I’ll start with this one. With your _Kuroo_.” 

The entire room was silent.

“Did you hear me?” Tendou said, softly. Then, he screamed. “I’ll fucking kill your pretty little human plaything!”

His eyes were pitch black as a snarl rumbled past his lips, his mouth upturned in a wicked and terrifying smirk. He cackled, laughing, loudly. Hysterically.

“Your arrogance will get you killed,” Tendou said, quieter, staring directly into Kuroo’s eyes. “I’m looking forward to making you suffer.”

Silence.

“I’m not afraid of dying,” Kuroo said.

“But you will be afraid of me.” The red-haired monster cackled, his eyes flashing, and he spun on his heel. He cast one last glance towards the silver-haired vampire who stood unmoving before him. “Is a human truly worth losing your family over?”

Just as quickly as Tendou had appeared, he vanished.

And the room remained silent, not a creature moved, not a breath felt heavy— nothing. Nobody muttered, nobody whispered, nobody stared at one another in shocked silence. All their eyes had been averted, glaring at the floor with their jaws clenched tightly shut. Their fingers were wound in tight angry fists, trembling slightly by the intensity of the grasp. Their breath was all held in their throats, unblinking, unmoving. Unable to.

To think Tendou leaving the room would alleviate the pressure would be foolish in nature. If anything, the anxiety of the room only increased, building slowly like fire in the belly of a mountain, brewing, teetering on the edge of explosion and mass devastation and unsettled distress. It was filled with a presence far more threatening than any of the others. Far grander than any sort of insult hurdled by Tendou.

It was a power unknown to humanity, to monsters, to even the gods themselves.

Sugawara was the only one looking when he lifted his head. His eyes held fire within them. Sharp like lightning ready to strike. There was a hum in the air, like anticipation, like the quiet calm before the storm. He was staring at Kuroo. There was nothing upon his delicate face, but as he breathed, as he blinked, the human boy’s head began to swim.

Whatever strength he held, the patchwork crumbled and he became weak again. His legs started to tremble, his mouth fell open as a series of terrifying thoughts piled into his head one after another, and he was ready to cry. The heat building behind his eyes, tears thick with shame.

“You lied to me,” Sugawara said, quietly. So soft it was barely audible.

Was this his fault? What exactly had he done? 

He remembered Sugawara’s mania. His fear, wild and animalistic. And he remembered the lie. How easy it was in that moment to mutter a false statement, a promise of certainty he had manifested out of fear? Out of curiosity? Why had he lied? What was the reason? And what did it mean now?

Oh god, what had he done?

“Traitor.” It was whispered.

The lightning in his eyes cracked.

“ _Traitor_!”

Sugawara moved, faster than anything he had ever seen, and Kuroo crushed his eyes shut, ready for the impact. Ready for Sugawara’s pale and slender fingers to wrap around his throat, to choke the life out of him, to choke the light out of him, and to finally send him into the domain of darkness.

But it was not he who crashed into the wall.

Hands held him close, wrapped around his midsection, holding his head with fingers wound in his black hair, tearing himself away so quickly all the air in his lungs escaped him. He had been pulled down, to the floor, collapsed against another person, a person who held him so close, desperately, his heart racing in his chest. He looked up to see Daishou beneath him, panting, holding him so tightly it was beginning to hurt. His yellow eyes— those pretty yellow eyes— were not looking at him. They were looking beyond him. Wide. Afraid.

Slowly, with wide and tearful eyes, Kuroo turned to look at the spot in which he was just standing. And in his place was the last thing he expected.

Sugawara, his lovely face twisted with distraught fury, teeth snapping wildly at the boy he held pinned against the wall. The pair had hit the wall so hard, with so much force, the wall had crumbled around them, shattered at the impact. His strength was unmatched despite the height difference, despite the difference in build. Sugawara pressed harder as the boy trembled and struggled against him, grimacing, and knowing, bitterly, there was nothing he could do to combat this ancient being. His forearm was pressed to the soft and pale flesh of his victim’s throat.

“You lied to me!” he shouted. “ _You fucking traitor!_ ”

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, between desperate breaths. “ _I’m sorry._ ”

It was Tsukishima. His glasses had slipped from his face. They shattered beneath Sugawara’s foot.


	21. the boy who didn’t and wished he would

Tsukishima held firmly to Sugawara’s forearm, which pressed tightly against his throat. His fingers struggled to squeeze behind the pressure, to alleviate enough so that he could breathe again. His face had twisted with pain, with anxiety, a grimace pulled at his features as he tried to keep his composure about himself. Sugawara pressed harder against him, crushing him against the wall effortlessly. It seemed almost as though the blond vampire was not trying to fight back how insignificant of a change was being made against the vampire which had abruptly attacked him.

“What did you think was going to happen, Tsukishima?” The silver-haired vampire hissed between clenched teeth. “Did you think that I would not have found out? Did you think that he would not have eventually gotten word?”

Tsukishima tried to speak, but only a pathetic wheeze escaped his lips. He started to scratch at Sugawara’s arms, leaving thin and pale scrapes as his fingernails functioned uselessly against him. It was clear his intention was not to fight the boy back where he instead tried to create some kind of leverage so that he would not immediately crush beneath Sugawara’s rage.

What made the sight even more unbearable was the lack of reaction from the rest of the room. It had been met with absolute silence. For a room filled with multiple bodies, it was eerily silent. Vampires stood as still as statues, their gazes averted, faces turned down and away, some expressionless, some gnawing anxiously at their lower lips, fists clenched tightly at their sides.

Nobody dared move. Nobody dared raise a hand against Sugawara. Because this was beyond their power, beyond their ability, beyond their status within the family. Beyond their role in the unit.

But Kuroo did not submit to the same institution. His mind had not been hardened by years upon years of connectedness, of unspoken orders, of a hierarchy within a family structured by wisdom and agelessness. He could only see what he saw with his eyes. With what he knew about these creatures in the room. And he saw Sugawara, delicate and powerful, beautiful and lethal, attacking his friend. He saw Tsukishima, wise and articulate, purposeful and thoughtful, suffering. 

Was he going to kill him? Why was nobody trying to save him? He did not understand. There was no way that he could understand.

“What are you doing?” Panic made his voice rise in his throat. “What are you doing? Stop it, Suga!”

Kuroo struggled against Daishou, the pair laying prone on the floor. Daishou had pulled him to the ground, the dark-haired boy had fallen between his legs, limbs suddenly useless against the vampire’s grasp. His arms had wound themselves around his midsection, holding him closely to his chest, but Kuroo did not want to be held. He grappled with the green-haired boy’s arms, grabbing at them and trying as hard as he could to break free. His legs began to kick as the panic increased as the scene continued to unfold before him.

“Let me go,” Kuroo cried, desperately, voice cracking as he shouted into the room where not a person flinched, not a person winced, not a person with any intention of breaking up the scene before them. “Daishou, let me go!”

Daishou only held him tighter, turning his face away from the shouting boy, the begging boy, so that he did not have to watch him struggle. So that he did not have to see the horror in Kuroo’s eyes as he watched Tsukishima struggle beneath Sugawara.

“Stop, Kuroo, there’s nothing you can do right now,” Daishou said, softly, quietly so that only Kuroo could hear him. “This is between Suga and Tsukki.”

Sugawara was glowering, angry, vengeful, his body trembling with something dark about himself. His eyes were not his own, filled with a swirling darkness which had not yet become visible to the rest of the world. With one swift movement, he pulled Tsukishima away from the wall by his throat, with just one hand, and slammed him back into it. His head connected with the wall, shattering the drywall even further, and he grimaced at the shock of pain as it started from his head and rippled across the rest of him.

“Give me a reason why, traitor. Give me one reason why I should not end your life right here,” Sugawara snarled, his voice sounded unlike his own. This one was black, laced with darkness, of an otherworldly strength.

Tsukishima gasped for breath, but he did as he was told. He would always answer to Sugawara.

“I did not betray you,” he choked.

“You did not betray me?” Sugawara tore him from the wall, both of his hands burying themselves in his shirt and pulling him towards his face. He was inches away from the blond boy who trembled at the sudden access to oxygen. “Then how is it Tendou appeared at our doorstep? How is it, after a decade of running, we were finally caught up with?”

His golden eyes were sad, so sad, and was begging for forgiveness. His mouth was agape, gasping, and he tried to touch Sugawara’s hands. For what reason, it was unknown to the human observer, but the silver-haired vampire did not let him. He shoved him backwards and the blond boy stumbled back into the mess the wall had created on the floor. His legs held strong, however, and he did not fall. But he did not try to fight back either.

“I didn’t tell him where we were,” Tsukishima admitted, softly, touching his throat where there was a thick stripe of redness from where the other boy had pressed. “I was afraid. That’s all it was.”

“Afraid?” Sugawara asked, bewildered, his strength drawing the universe closer to him so that the density of the air pooled around him. As though he could move the space itself, as if he could control the very air about him. What kind of power did this creature of darkness possess? How far did his strength extend? Was the void of his own creation and could he manipulate it? His brown eyes flashed angrily. “What does fear have to do with any of this? You should only fear me. Unless there was more to your visit. Do you doubt my leadership as well?”

Daichi winced where he stood. His gaze lowered still.

Tsukishima shook his head, pain building behind his eyes. It was a thick sadness, the kind tainted by shame, stinging with regret. It was clear he knew exactly what the other boy was talking about. There was no secret between them, no hidden meaning of their words— it had turned into absolute transparency and it was clear Tsukishima found himself deserving of whatever reaction came of the silver-haired vampire.

“I have never doubted your leadership. Sugawara, I promised you my loyalty centuries ago. That has not wavered in the slightest.” Tsukishima’s voice was steady despite the pressure in the room, the tightness of his chest as Sugawara’s glare seemed to choke him harder than when his forearm was pressed against his throat.

Sugawara’s grin was thin and empty.

“But?”

Tsukishima’s expression changed to something hardened and distant. He was apologetic, but determined. He did not seem like the type to simply back away from a confrontation. He did not go seeking them out, finding himself impassive and unsurprised by most things— a likely anecdote of his long life— however before Sugawara, he struggled to find the words he meant to say.

“I have noticed a change in you.”

“That is not what I wanted to hear,” Sugawara retorted, a tension was about himself, pulling taut across his shoulders. Like something about to break. Something about to snap. Something dangerously close to the edge of sanity.

Kuroo remembered the same wildness in Sugawara’s eyes when he appeared by his bedroom that one night, begging for information, information which Kuroo did not have in the moment. Guilt crept into his stomach, firming planting itself, and brewing something unsettling. The lie seemed so small before, but who truly betrayed Sugawara’s trust? This dispute between vampires or Kuroo’s blatant disregard for Sugawara’s authority?

“I did not tell Yamaguchi where we were. I did not tell him anything of importance.” Tsukishima found strength from his core. “I only needed to see him, I needed to collect my thoughts. I didn’t tell him about us.”

Sugawara’s fists began to tremble at his side. His grin shifted into something nasty, something dark and evil, something a creature of the night would wear with pride. A grin meant to murder, a grin worn when death was sweet.

“Were you afraid that I would ruin our family? That I would split us apart for values you do not share?” Sugawara said. “You swore your loyalty to me, but that did not keep you from betraying my direct orders. Do you no longer have faith in me as your master now that I bear this black stain upon my chest as a reminder of how much I have destroyed?”

“I did not betray you, Suga,” he said, softly, gazing up at the vampire. He began to look smaller in front of the other vampire.

“Are you afraid of what I might do?” Sugawara asked, his gaze darkening. Tendrils of black veins began to spread along his throat towards his chin.

Kuroo had never seen Sugawara shift before. Even when rage touched him, hysteria snapping at his heels, he held the beast at bay within himself with ease and grace. The violence of his eyes were always tamed and controlled, ready to be released upon his own command without influence from the outside. However, the strength he held on his monster, the creature of darkness which lurked within him, was beginning to wan, slipping away from him for every moment which passed. What brewed behind this wall was a terrifying thought. It was something horrible.

His ashen face darkened as black lines touched his chin and continued to crawl towards his eyes.

What power was about to be unlocked?

“I did not betray you,” the blond vampire repeated, a little more firmly despite his shrinking presence.

Sugawara chuckled.

A crack shocked the room as Sugawara’s hand struck Tsukishima’s face, sending him toppling sideways. His cheek bloomed with redness as he stood, stunned, with wide terrified eyes. He clutched to the wall, hunched over, unable to move to touch his cheek as it stung it him. A touch of blood dribbled to the edge of his lips.

“Liar,” the master vampire whispered through gritted teeth.

“I did not betray you,” Tsukishima whispered.

Another strike across his face, harder this time. Sugawara was trembling.

Kuroo surged against Daishou whose grip only tightened along his arms. He had not realized he had been crying out until Daishou’s hand firmly pressed against his mouth, suddenly silencing him, causing his eyes to sting as tears pricked behind them. It was useless fighting against Daishou, his vampiric strength beyond his fragile human form, but that did not stop him from trying. He wondered how long he had to do this until Daishou’s strength faltered. What must he do to stop the scene from unfolding further?

A bloody nightmare.

Tsukishima was not fighting back. Nobody was fighting the master vampire as he shed his innocent facade and permitted his true form to shine for the first time. He shone with the brilliance of a thousand burning stars, exploding light-years away, and extinguishing into the galaxy as though it never existed at all.

Tsukishima struggled to his feet again, this time his shoulders were not as strong. Still, he tried to rise before his master, the vampire he swore his loyalty to, the vampire he would follow wherever he went.

Sugawara’s eyes were not black, but the warmth within them had faded. In the depths of them, his age was visible. Years and years and years of coldness. Of perpetual existence.

“Do you think I am gentle, Tsukishima?” Sugawara’s voice was low in his throat. “Do you think the kindness I offer to humanity makes me weak?”

Fear flashed before Tsukishima’s honey golden eyes.

“Answer me.”

“You are the strongest vampire I have ever met,” he tried, lightly. Treading carefully. He used the back of his hand to wipe at the blood around his mouth.

“Why did you go to Yamaguchi?” Sugawara growled. “What did he offer to you that I could not have?”

“I don’t know,” Tsukishima admitted, his voice breaking at the end. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Sugawara struck him again. This was the hardest of all. It sounded like bone shattering upon the impact of the vampire’s pale hand against Tsukishima’s cheek. A cry pulled from Tsukishima’s mouth as he toppled to the floor, on his hands and knees. His face was twisted with pain, with deep regret, the kind of regret which painted your insides black like ink and red like blood. He shook, blood trickling to the floor from his mouth, his pretty pale face was bright red and bruised. The rapid healing of his body was not rapid enough.

Sugawara kicked him, his foot connecting with his ribs, sending the vampire to his side. Tears started to stream down his face. He did not dare make eye contact with the silver-haired vampire. It was too much. There was too much shame.

“Do you think I am soft, Tsukishima?” the master vampire’s voice dripped with poison. “Is that why you went to Yamaguchi? To escape my agonizingly sweet and gentle mannerisms towards a race unlike our own?”

Sugawara bent down, kneeling, leaning over the vampire.

“You will stand when I address you.”

Tsukishima struggled to rise to his feet, keeping his eyes down. He swayed as he stood, his hands pressed against his side. His teeth were stained red as he grimaced, his eye swollen from the injury to his face, and he looked apologetic. Despite the pitifulness of his expression, he did not look weak. He did not look frail. He seemed accepting of his punishment. 

“You know he is likely dead, right?” Sugawara said. “You killed him when you cursed him with my name. Was it worth it? You killed Tadashi and you killed the rest of your family. Why? Was it worth it?”

Tsukishima shook his head. 

“I did not betray you.”

Sugawara rushed him, his fingers tightly gripping his swollen face, crushing his cheeks between his hand and pressing him into the wall with a loud crash. He was snarling, growling from his throat, baring his teeth at him as they flashed a violent white.

“You betrayed me the moment you doubted my decisions and sought comfort from Yamaguchi,” he snarled. “You betrayed me the moment you stood before him and uttered my name.”

He lifted Tsukishima’s head and smashed it against the wall.

“My name does not belong on your lips again. Do you understand what I am saying to you? You are dead to me. Dead to this family.”

The silence was unbearable across the room. Suddenly, one by one, the gazes of the vampires lifted their averted eyes. Confusing and horror mixed together across their expressions and soon they found strength in their bodies, movement began to occur. Asahi had taken a step towards Sugawara, his hand outstretched and unsure while Daichi’s hardened eyes softened as tears began to touch the corners and his mouth fell open as a plea passed silently.

“What does this mean? What’s happening, Daishou?” Kuroo whispered, unable to keep his voice steady, his heart pounding in his chest.

Daishou was silent and the grasp he held onto Kuroo felt less like a prison and more of an embrace. The green-haired vampire curled around the human, softly, gingerly, sadly, and pressed his face into the nook of Kuroo’s neck. The gesture made him shudder with fear.

“He’s being exiled,” Daishou muttered into his boy’s neck. Pain laced his words. Something wet dripped onto Kuroo’s shoulder and instinctively the human boy lifted his hand to comfortingly stroke the vampire’s hair.

Daishou’s words struck through Kuroo’s chest and pierced his heart.

“Please,” Tsukishima begged, his voice struggling to make itself heard through Sugawara’s crushing grip. “Don’t do this. I did not betray you. I did not go to Oikawa.”

Sugawara released him, the vampire falling to his knees as he grimaced and clutched onto his injured side even more. He whimpered, sadly, unable to look up at the master vampire as he loomed over him. Sugawara’s presence grew suddenly, the entire universe seemed to be at his command, swirling and twisting around him like an unsettling and tangible darkness. Sugawara’s eyes began to cloud with blackness, the black veins prominent across his face, as he sneered at the helpless vampire who could not lift his head.

“What did you just say?” the master vampire snarled.

“I went to a neutral location. Yamaguchi has not been loyal to Oikawa since we left. You would have known this if you had permitted us to contact some of the others. I may have made a grave mistake, Sugawara, but I did not betray you.”

For a moment, just a moment, Sugawara looked as if he would walk away. But that moment did not last long. It was fast and it was fleeting and then, all at once, the last of Sugawara’s sanity fell away from him like shattered pieces of glass, obliterating into millions of pieces of irreparable sharps onto the floor.

“Do all of you misunderstand Oikawa so profoundly?” he said, his voice was small and pitiful. An avalanche about to tumble. Sugawara’s trembling increased. The pressure of the room was deadly. He stared at Tsukishima with wide and empty eyes and released a soft laugh. “How is it I am the only one who lives in fear of his wrath?”

Sugawara laughed again, louder this time, and it did not cease for a while. It took Kuroo a moment to realize he was not laughing at all. He was weeping.

“This is exactly what he wanted,” Sugawara said, quietly, his black eyes leaking a stream of tears as he stared at the vampire beneath him. “He wanted you to turn from me. To see the flaws in my leadership and come crawling back to him. Or if not that, he wanted my own fear to be so great, my own misery to fuel my paranoia, and push you away. He wanted this. He wants me to be alone. He wants to take all of you away from me so I have no choice but to go back to him.”

Sugawara laughed again and the tears streamed harder down his lovely face, twisted by a monster. He fell to his knees before Tsukishima, Kuroo thought, it was pitiful and desperate. But it was certainly not that. Sugawara struck the blond vampire across the face, sending him crashing to the floor. And Sugawara struck again. And again. Weeping, he struck him again and again and he did not stop.

“Oikawa will not stop. If you all somehow survive this, he will not stop. Because of you, Tsukki, he will never stop. If it was not you, it would’ve been someone else. He knows he will find me. He knows he will always keep finding me.” Sugawara paused from his beating, just for a moment, his fists painted red as Tsukishima laid motionless beneath his blows, blood pouring from the open wounds of his face. His fists trembled. His whole body trembled. He wiped away some of the tears with his hand, staining his face red as well. 

“You say you did not betray me, but Oikawa always gets his way. You proved to him how fragile our family is. How brittle we stand. He will always get his way. I will always be his.”

The silver-haired vampire released a quiet sob and wept into his hands for a moment before his sob turned into a cry of distress and he started beating the vampire again. As though his life depended on it, years and years of pain and misery poured from him as he cried, pounding his fists against the vampire’s face and his torso and his arms and his entire body with no indication of him stopping.

While the sight was treacherous and difficult to look at, still nobody moved. Yet Kuroo stirred in his position, the grip on his midsection eased as Daishou kept his face hidden in the crook of his neck. It was his only opportunity, the one moment to break free, and that feeling he knew as something unexplainable, as something unknown to him, bloomed deep within his chest. It was the small seed of strength, a promise of invincibility, and suddenly it was swelling within him. His fingers and his toes were his own again and as he withdrew from Daishou, the vampire did not try to hold him back. 

It started as something sad, Daishou’s swollen eyes, his tear-filled yellow eyes, staring at Kuroo, hoping for some kind of softness to ease the ache in his chest at the sight of his best friend slipping away from him. Kuroo moved cruelly, moving in a way to face the vampire and press his mouth against Daishou’s. It was meant to comfort him, something warm and soft, but he used it as a tactic. In the surprise heat of a kiss, Kuroo managed to escape his arms and flee.

Sadness shifted to anger nearly immediately as Kuroo rushed towards the silver-haired vampire. But maybe it was fear— what Kuroo was doing, not even the others dared try.

Sugawara’s rampage had not ceased in the few moments as they passed, his punches were still purposeful, Tsukishima groaned and hissed with each blow as they were dealt. Kuroo didn’t have a plan. Based on his weakness with Daishou alone, he did not think for a moment longer than a second about what he was going to do to protect Tsukishima. He did not have superhuman strength or an unnatural ability to change the very pressure of the air he walked.

He was just a human, with long legs and a slender build. He was a simple college student who earned pretty good grades and had a group of best friends he would go to the ends of the earth for. He woke up early for his classes and had scheduled meal times so he would see his friends. He got drunk on Fridays and would end up sleeping at someone’s apartment. He spent his holidays visiting his friends and texting them how much he missed them.

He laughed at Kenma’s bedhead. And poked fun at Akaashi’s grouchy face. And hugged Bokuto when he cried.

His friends.

What would they think about what he was about to do?

With all of the invincibility he held within himself, he threw himself before Sugawara. Collapsing in front of his fists, shielding with his fragile frame across Tsukishima’s injured body, using his hands to grab onto Sugawara’s bloodied wrists. He held onto him, meeting his blackened eyes, his violent gaze, and watching as the tears continued to fall as the monster grimaced before him.

The entire room shuddered. Each vampire lurched forward, to tear Sugawara away from destroying Kuroo’s pathetic and human existence— but no one managed to touch Kuroo.

It was too late.

“You’re going to kill him. You have to stop,” Kuroo pleaded, his voice caught in his throat— terrified.

Who was he to speak to a master vampire?

But Sugawara let him hold his wrists. He did not strike again. He did not hiss and spit and growl. His innate lust for blood did not burst from his petite form. His shoulders slumped and the tears fell even harder.

They stared at one another for a very long time, the seconds expanding into lifetimes between them. A blink in time for one, an endless eternity for another. Sugawara, despite his weeping, looked aged and ancient. As though all the life in his bones had dried up and left but a shell to do the biddings of a monster. He saw, for a moment, a glimpse of something dangerous— self-inflicted pain. The silver-haired vampire’s mouth pulled into a half smile as he stared at Kuroo and slowly the blackness of his features faded into something else.

“All of this was because of you,” Sugawara said, quietly. His voice was faraway, angry and thoughtful. “Why was it you?”

Something puzzled across Sugawara’s face and he slowly realized his arms had been in Kuroo’s grasp. He stared at Kuroo’s fingers, curled around his pale and bloody wrists. At the confidence of his grasp, the blissful ignorance of how close he had come, the childish charm the human boy held with all of his teeny tiny years compared to him.

“Why am I hesitating?” he said, voice floating from him as though he did not realize he was saying it.

Then, horror touched his expression and it was as though he had suddenly returned to life.

He yanked himself away, scrambling to his feet, nearly slipping on the blood as it pooled around him.

“Forgive me, Kuroo,” Sugawara muttered, his words slurring together as his hands began to shake. He looked to Tsukishima, a heap of pale skin and dark bruises and open wounds and tiny gasps of breath, and his face ripped into two as he stood up. The deep unsettling ache of regret tied with the sweet triumph of asserting himself successfully. A terrible combination of his lovely face bloodied by violent deeds. 

Still, wetness touched his cheeks.

“Get up, Kei,” Sugawara said, his words had evened out, no longer trembling, no longer breaking at the ends. It seemed as though the pieces which held the silver-haired vampire together were once again falling back into their designated places. “I’ll deal with you after our 72 hours. We have a fight to win. If you all manage to survive that long.”

Without another word, Sugawara left the room. He walked towards the stairwell leading to the upstairs portion of the house without looking back. As he marched past the others, not holding their gazes because the vampires had quickly lowered their eyes in response to his sudden change in behavior. The tears leaked, unstoppable despite his presentation as the untouchable leader he always was, but no one dared question it. One by one the eldest vampires filed behind Sugawara, the highest in command, a chain and order to the way they lined themselves— it was as though they knew what was coming.

It was the beginnings of a war. Tendou had declared war upon their family.

But before they could all march off, Sugawara paused, turning his head but careful not to glance over his shoulder.

“Anyone but Daichi,” he said, firmly. “It can’t be him right now.”

Daichi halted where he stood, stunned, but unquestioning. Asahi bowed his head at the dark-haired boy and hurried after Sugawara with Tanaka and Nishinoya close on his heels. Their faces were upturned with determination and strength— like soldiers marching off to war.

Soon, all who remained was Daichi, who stood staring at his companions left the room, and the few others. Hinata was the first to move, slowly, lethargically, as if his muscles were stiff and heavy. He moved slowly towards Tsukishima, towards the unmoving boy who lay crumpled on the floor with crimson staining every inch of his pale skin. Swollen wounds touched his face, bruised and black and red. His breathing was ragged, but it was due to the angry tears which poured from his honey eyes.

Kuroo sat in a pool of his blood, on his hands and knees, silent as the feeling of invincibility withered away and he was left feeling dull and empty. He turned to look at the broken boy beside him, the image causing his chest to ache and his stomach to churn. He bit his lip, hard enough for it to hurt, and raised a hand to touch him.

“Get off of me,” Tsukishima spat, his entire body trembling as he raised his voice, smacking the human boy’s hand away.

Kuroo froze, stunned by the sharpness of his voice. His eyes widened and he felt sick. Tsukishima struggled to rise, the blood ceasing to stop from pouring from his injuries.

“Your glasses are broken,” Kuroo whispered, dumbly. He did not know what else to say.

The blond vampire glared at him, his face nearly unrecognizable by the extent of his injuries, but he did not seem in pain. Kuroo wondered at what rate his body struggled to heal him. How painful were Sugawara’s punches actually? Tsukishima’s face twisted with absolute disgust as he looked upon Kuroo as he struggled to his feet.

“Are you dense? I don’t need your fucking pity, human. Get off of me.”

Kuroo winced, shrinking away from his words as the vampire steadied himself when he finally stood. He looked miserable, a deep sadness in the darkest parts of his eyes, yet his face remained impassive and uninterested. Hinata moved to offer him an arm to steady himself, but he shrugged off the gesture. He did not meet any of their eyes. Not even Daichi who in his low rumbling voice offered him an exit to the room. Tsukishima ignored them all, staggering away from them, disappearing into the depths of the house in the opposite direction from the rest of the vampires. He clutched at his side as he walked, breath hissing through his gritted teeth.

He was in pain and he did not want anybody to know. He did not want help. He did not want forlorn glances. He wanted to walk away with whatever dignity he had left. To rest. To heal. To mourn. What all had he lost?

And why did it pain Kuroo so?

Was this truly all his fault?

Had he damaged this family to a point of no return?

He did not know he was crying until Daishou knelt beside him and coaxed him to his feet. His clothes were stained blood red, his hands a deep crimson, and his eyes were swollen and pink as tears poured uncontrollably down his cheeks. He let Daishou touch his waist and hold him close. He let Daishou lead him back to his bedroom. He let Daishou lift the clothes from his trembling body, peeling away as the blood coated layers of fabric. He let Daishou pet his hair and whisper reassuring words to him as he led him into the shower. He let Daishou stand with him, fully-clothed, under the water, holding him close, as the hot stream burned his skin and left him stinging and bright pink, washing away the crimson. Washing away the events of today. Washing away the promise of his demise as it lingered in the depths of his mind. Washing away the sinking feeling of disgust. With himself. At himself.

Was this all his fault?

Why didn’t he die in that alleyway? 

None of this would have happened if he had just died.

***

His hair was damp and cool to touch as he absently patted it with a plush towel, sitting on the bed he claimed as his own. The bed he stayed in when he had been beaten and broken and bloodied, the bed he stayed in when he had been shivering and incoherent, the bed he stayed in when he had been sick and trembling. Now, he stayed in the bed, ill with a plague of a thousand thoughts, his stomach churned as the scene played out before him in slow motion. The sick crunch of shattering bone, the wet squelch of blood against fist, the unwavering desire for destruction in black and empty eyes, the void-like blackholes of sadness as time expanded into an unreal concept.

He did not have the capacity within himself to think about anything else.

The lifelessness of Sugawara’s eyes had been enough to consume his mind completely. There was no space for the threat he had earned from the red-haired monster and his terrifying grin. Because that threat was far away and distant whereas somewhere in this very house Sugawara lurked. And somewhere in this very house, Tsukishima sat curled up as he waited for his forever body to heal itself.

And he could not shake the horrible welling feeling of disgust and shame and the perpetual questioning of the meaningfulness of his existence.

Kuroo thought he had found the place upon which he existed— beyond the black inky waters of the dark ocean and beyond the starry nighttime sky. He had found yellow and determined it meaningless to him, because it did not burn with the same intensity or brightness as it did in Hinata’s eyes. Or Daishou’s eyes. Or all of those moments when warmth pressed into his chest. He had found darkness and determined it to be too great to comprehend. So, he once again, floated. And suffered in this continuous dream of nothing and everything. In fear and invincibility. In darkness and in light.

Yet, there was an itching in the back of his mind. A whisper of truth. A whisper of promise. Something about the darkness was beginning to grow upon him and he found his curiosity of what existed beneath those black waves upon which he drifted to lull him deeper into his icy waters. They felt like icy fingers against his skin.

He did not know he had been shuddering until a blanket was draped over his shoulders.

Daishou busied himself with wrapping the boy up, not finding it within himself to meet the human’s eyes as they stared blankly at the wall. Daishou had not spoken a word to him since Kuroo had changed, carefully avoiding his eyes or Kuroo’s silent reaching fingers as he tried to grab hold of his hand as he walked by, but he could no longer ignore the unspoken words between them. He could no longer pretend nothing had happened. He could no longer sit in the sad silence with the human boy who was being held together by a fine thread of certainty of what the world truly looked like.

After Kuroo’s shoulders had been thoroughly covered and his immediate trembling ceased, Daishou touched the boy’s cheek, gingerly, with his fingers.

“Look at me, Kuroo,” he said, quietly.

Kuroo did. There was not much behind his eyes.

“Are you feeling better now?” Daishou’s thumb touched the soft part underneath Kuroo’s eye, which was now soft and swollen due to his crying.

Kuroo nodded, his gaze unwavering.

“Good,” the vampire whispered.

A moment passed between the two boys where they both seemed as though they wanted to say something, their eyes brimming with life and unsaid words. Neither boy ended up saying anything at all and Kuroo was the first to look away. Daishou sighed, heavily, and took the spot beside the human boy on the bed. There was a discomfort between the two, the moments before when Daishou touched him so carefully and lightly, helping him in and out of his clothes as if he were a broken doll that needed fixing. Each touch was tender and warm and Daishou did not look at him with his once hungry eyes. His yellow eyes had been worn and weary. Like he was trying to distract himself from something.

“We won’t let him touch you, you know,” Daishou said after a long unbearable silence.

Kuroo looked at him, frown touching his lips. The dark-haired boy felt fear stab him through the heart. Daishou glanced at him sideways when Kuroo’s heart began to race in his chest. All the warmth he had collected from the shower and the touches and the blanket— it started to slip. His panic did not permit him to grab onto it. With wide eyes, he stared at Daishou.

“He knows I lied?” Kuroo asked in a hushed tone.

Daishou frowned.

“What?”

“Suga,” Kuroo replied, softer than before. It was clear fear was building within him again. It felt as though it was building upon air because there was no foundation available to continue to press against his insides. “If he knew, why didn’t he just strike me down in the moment. Like he did to Tsukki. Why did he apologize to me? Why didn’t he just kill me instead?”

Daishou furrowed his brow and tried to catch Kuroo’s eye. His words were beginning to slur together as the panic rose in his throat, making everything he said sound anxious and wild. The vampire meant to maintain his composure, but the unraveling of events, the understanding of what Kuroo was saying, made it harder and harder for the yellow-eyed boy to handle the pressure.

“You lied to Suga?”

Kuroo covered his face in his hands and choked on a gasp, the shuddering returning.

“I told him about the eyes. I lied to him. I never saw yellow eyes.”

Daishou tried to grasp his wrist, to pull his hands away from his face, but the boy yanked them back, fighting against him. Unable to look at the vampire, his shame and disgust building higher and higher until he thought he was going to throw up. His breathing became shallow and difficult, his lungs started to scream at him. The sensation only made his experience worse as his mind was hurdled back to the time he struggled through ice cold currents, the noise of water rushing over his head, cold… cold… cold… he couldn’t breathe.

“I never saw yellow eyes!”

Daishou startled at the abruptness of his cry and pulled Kuroo’s hand away from his distraught face. Daishou studied him, not allowing him to take his hands back, and searched his face. Kuroo was crying again, his mouth parted as desperate gasps of air tried to provide for his lungs, and he was shaking again. All of the work Daishou had put into comforting him had withered away and died. Just like how the boy felt. Withering away. Dying.

“He should have killed me. Why did he hesitate?” Kuroo sputtered.

Daishou scowled.

“What are you saying, Kuroo? What do you mean you never saw yellow eyes?”

Kuroo tried to take his hands away, to cover his face, to hide the creeping shame. He released a sob.

“They were blue. But I told him they were yellow. I lied to his face. Why did I lie? Why did he hesitate?” Kuroo met Daishou’s eyes. “Why did you hesitate? Why didn’t you kill me? Then I wouldn’t have had to lie. Then Tsukishima would be okay.”

Daishou stared at him, piecing together what the human boy revealed. What the words meant, truly.

“You saw Kageyama,” Daishou said, softly, as if he could not believe the words as he said them. “You saw Kageyama and neither Tsukishima nor I were able to catch his scent?”

Kuroo struggled to swallow that fact alone.

“Damn, he must have gotten better,” Daishou hissed, under his breath.

“I saw Kageyama?” Kuroo gasped. For a moment his panic ceased, too surprised to react. And then it all overwhelmed him. 

The gravity of his error ripped through his body, tearing at his lungs, leaving them shredded and useless. His mind was a blur, unable to grasp simple concepts of sitting upright and breathing normally. Unable to process the very mess he had made himself. What difference would it have made had he given Sugawara what he wanted in that moment? Would he have reacted differently? Would his intensity have changed when Tsukishima’s betrayal had come to light? 

Could he have stopped any of this at all?

He was crying again, but it was not the same hysterics from before. The tears were silent and slipping down his cheeks, dropping onto his hands in his lap as they shook and trembled upon his legs. His shoulders ached with the weight of a thousand unanswered questions, the weight of a story he had stumbled into and devastated with one sweeping motion. 

And then the feeling returned to him. The twisting and churning sensation of something deep and dark lingered in the depth of his chest, the furthest point of the blackhole he loomed over, the inky black ocean, the edge of a cliff he stood upon, and at the bottom… at the bottom… what was at the bottom?

And why did he want to find out so badly?

“I think there is something wrong with me,” the human boy muttered, swallowing the pooling darkness in throat, staring at the drops of tears as they slipped from his hands onto the floor. “I think there is something seriously wrong with me, Daishou.”

Daishou moved with uncertainty, reaching to take one of Kuroo’s shaking hands into his own, holding it tightly so that perhaps his fear would fade. It did not work, but Daishou tried anyway.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Kuroo,” the vampire replied, pressing his lips to the part of the blanket where Kuroo’s shoulder was sure to be. “You’re afraid. And that’s okay. We’ll protect you. I’ll tear Tendou apart before he touches you. Don’t worry about Tsukki. Don’t worry about Suga.”

A pause.

“Just focus on staying alive right now.”

A laugh pulled itself from Kuroo’s brittle body, startling Daishou to look up at him with a confused expression, his pretty yellow eyes filled with curiosity and wonder as the human boy unraveled before him. Shaping up to be something equally as pitiful and terrifying to look at. He was light and dark all mixed together. The embodiment of the in-between. His face was swollen and puffy from the tears as they trickled down his cheeks but his mouth was smiling— no he was sneering— and his eyes were alight with a blazing fire. A beacon of light but colored dark. How were his eyes so empty and full at the same time.

As though he understood everything he had to and nothing at all.

“I’m not afraid of dying,” Kuroo mumbled. “I’m not afraid of Tendou. I’m not afraid of anything at all.”

Kuroo met Daishou’s eyes and the vampire withdrew, only slightly, at the sight. It was enough to cause him to tense.

Enough to cause him to hesitate.

“I should be afraid. I should be so afraid. I should be terrified! I keep ending up in situations where I should die. But I just keep living.” Kuroo’s tears increased but his grin did not fade. “I should be dead! What’s wrong with me, Daishou? What’s wrong with me? I’m so wrong. Why am I not afraid to die?”

Daishou was at a loss for words.

In his long, long life, Daishou did not once meet a human like this.

A manifestation of darkness. A manifestation of light. Of this twisted and unforeseen combination of colors— of grey.

He did not exist in the between any longer— he was the in-between.

Kuroo took his hands back from Daishou and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, forcing the tears to stop, ragged breaths causing his shoulders to shake and to tremble. But, the action soothed his agony. Enough for the tears to cease, for the pressure in his mind to wane, for the terrible haunting anxiety of what was to come to fade to the background as the strength of his body faded completely. He had wiped himself. Exhaustion came and he accepted the lull of sleep gratefully. Anything was better than this hell he lived.

The disgust with himself. The horror of his actions. And the unwavering confidence he somehow held despite everything that has happened.

He slumped against Daishou and the vampire moved to give him space on the bed, adjusting his limp and tired limbs underneath the covers.

He had 72 hours, but sleep was inevitable for the confusing human boy. As Daishou watched him, he wondered silently to himself, his own mind plagued with his own concerns of the future.

I should be dead. Why am I not afraid to die?

How did Kuroo keep skating death? He was running out of time.

And running out of chances.

Death was no longer an uncertainty. He was out of days.


End file.
